Thicker Than Blood
by Teekoness
Summary: Cloud doesn't want to return home. Rufus wants a bodyguard. So when Sephiroth destroys Nibelheim, a certain trooper isn't there. Four years later, Cloud is about to find reunions and Reunions wait for no man. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Thicker Than Blood  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters:** Cloud, Rufus  
**Summary:** Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**10**

Rufus Shinra had nothing but loathing for Junon.

The city was a pale imitation of Midgar. A small child smearing make-up up on its face, inevitably resulting in little more than wasted product and a colourful mess. Pitifully attempting to emulate its mother rather than looking itself in the mirror and embracing the reflection therein.

Junon had no need for the colossal metal plates that covered the ruin of the shantytown below. Whereas the land surrounding its parent city was dangerously unstable, Junon was surrounded by strong, healthy earth – perfect for construction. It would have saved billions to do so. Whereas Midgar was suffused with endless factories fillings its corners, with massive of exports of goods each day, touching each corner of the earth, Junon was a port city, playing the part of glorified messenger as it dutifully toddled back and forth delivering items at Midgar's slightest request. The only feature about the city that seemed independent and unique was the massive Junon Cannon, and even it for all its apparent power, it was overblown. What was a need for such an instrument? It was hard to aim and harder still to power.

Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. And worse still, Rufus was imprisoned here.

Oh, if the untrained eye were gaze upon him, they would see no limbs clad in chains, nor any garish orange jumpsuit upon his figure or cell for surroundings. Not even a guard at the door. He was dressed in the finest white and black silks, his chambers spacious and opulent and he wasn't restricted to them either. His warden was much too subtle to resort to such medieval tactics. The bars around his cage might be transparent but they were as real as steel and twice as strong. And he had no doubt that there were a thousand little rats crawling around the duct work listening to his every breath, watching him with beady eyes.

His dearest father had hardly been thrilled at his son's tiny act of teenage rebellion. Apparently attempted coups were frowned on.

Rufus seriously doubted that his distaste for his current location was hardly a coincidence. On the other hand, he didn't have even those minuscule uncertainties that the information that was given to him was being filtered. The report on his desk alone was nearly half a year old. Most likely any relevance to the world at large had long since expired. His teeth ground together, the edges of the papers crackling as he gripped them. He nearly ripped ir apart out of spite.

Then he saw the name. _Tseng._

Rufus felt a trickle of annoyance at himself. His behaviour was crude, a temper tantrum for lack of a better description. He wasn't allowed such weaknesses. Perhaps if he'd been aware of such behaviour in the first place, he would still be home. So easing his grip, he smoothed out the pages and began to read.

Apparently the Turk had been on a mission to retrieve weapons stolen from Shinra by a militant group. It must have been highly confidential weaponry, though as to what kind the report didn't say, as the Tseng was a superb operative and only given the most important of missions. For nearly fourteen years, he'd been assigned as _Rufus'_ bodyguard after all.

The mission had been successful, albeit with casualties: one trooper had been lost, and Tseng, the First Class SOLDIER assigned and another trooper had been severely injured. They had all recovered and Rufus was rather surprised to note that the second trooper hadn't merely survived due to luck or simply hiding (hardly unheard of behaviour). The mentions of his response were fairly positive, hardly a common thing considering Tseng's sparse use of praise.

Rufus shuffled the papers until he came to the background check on the trooper. His name was Strife, Cloud Strife, a rather odd name. He was a trooper specializing as a mechanic and radio operator. Quaint if a little unremarkable. Nothing seemed special except for the birth records were quite detailed, like having a doctor present and the exact time of birth being listed. Strange considering most small towns made do with a midwife and had little in the way of record-keeping, especially ones as remote as Nibelheim.

Wasn't that the place where Sephiroth had spent his earlier years? Yes, Rufus was quite sure. Professor Hojo had a lab there and Rufus father had regularly gone there to check up on the burgeoning 'Project S'.

The part stating Strife's own father was conspicuously blank and so Rufus assessed Strife's photo, carefully noting the features as well as the blond hair and blue eyes.

It was a mediocre attempt at detective work at best, all assumptions and coincidences. Rufus was capable of arrogance – yes, he could even admit it – but he was not so deluded a person as to assume his thoughts were anywhere near the truth.

Nonetheless it was an intriguing notion and he mulled it over. It wouldn't be the first time. His father had never been very good at keeping his fly zipped and when rumours had spread, he'd insisted that he had only one son. Father also had two other 'only' sons and five other 'only' daughters, a number of which worked for the company, and these were only the ones Rufus knew about. They were all older though and as Rufus understood it when his mother had been having trouble conceiving, his father had excused the entire thing by saying he needed a suitable heir._ If_ this Strife was related to him, that pretext would be entirely dismantled.

Proving it would be difficult though, with Rufus' current resources it would require letting the little rats seeing what he was doing and who knew what they would do? It would be such a waste to play the game too hastily lest he lose and Rufus was quite capable of being patient. One way or another Cloud Strife had shown to be resourceful.

It could prove entertaining.

* * *

**9**

"Wait a minute, _who_ gave you a job offer?"

"Uh, Rufus Shinra," Cloud replied, staring dully at the e-mail.

"As in the_ vice president_?" Zack said, his dark eyebrows practically jumping off his face.

"Are there any other Rufus Shinras?" Cloud asked hopefully.

The SOLDIER First hustled towards him, and leaned over Cloud's shoulder, causing his friend to sag as much from his friend's weight as the shock of the message. Then completely neglecting to ask, Zack wriggled the PHS out of Cloud's hand. "Even if there are, this one is at the top of the pack," Zack said, his fingers bouncing off the device's buttons.

Could there be another Cloud Strife in the trooper corps? But even his numb brain knew that was a ridiculous suggestion. Strife by itself was a very rare name even in Nibelheim. Between that and the fact that when he'd applied for the SOLDIER program, the man in charge of the paperwork having seen his name had been sure that he had been trying to have him on. It had taken ten minutes to convince the recruiter not to kick out of the office and longer still to get him to take his application.

"Could it be a fake?" It wasn't unheard of for troopers to play practical jokes within there own ranks, though the targets tended to be the recruits.

"Probably not. I've seen these kinds of messages before. See all that fancy imagery at the top of the page? If it's a fake, then somebody is going to be in big trouble because that's the sort of stuff the Directors use. I've seen their e-mails to important SOLDIERs."

"Not to you?"

Zack shuffled, scratching the spot where the ebony spikes of his tickled the back of neck. "Well, I've had a couple… just because Sephiroth was too busy."

Cloud didn't point out that Zack being a First automatically made him important, or the fact that he was the foremost SOLDIER to go to after Sephiroth made Zack even more prominent. For all his skills and accomplishments, Zack seemed entirely incapable of internalizing the fact that he was one of the highest ranking members of the military. Cloud could try, though he doubted it would go anywhere.

"Are you sure it's not a fake?" It was one last pitiful attempt at denial and Cloud found himself wincing at it.

"Nope, it's the real deal," Zack's glowing blue eyes moved to his friend. "What's the matter? I mean it shows people are realizing what I've always known: you're awesome, Cloud."

"Thanks but—"

"No buts allowed," his friend asserted. "You. Are. Awesome. Remember the time you shot that monster off my back? Bam. Right between the eyes."

"You would've been fine."

Zack shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Just 'cause I'm enhanced doesn't mean I don't occasionally need someone to watch out for me. I'm human too after all."

Cloud felt the edges of his lips curl upward. "You sure about that?"

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. With all that energy of yours, you've always struck me a more of a puppy."

Zack stared at him for a bit, forehead furrowing, before letting out a whoop and effortless pinning the teenager under his arm, giving him a noogie. All the while the blond wiggled in his grip, letting out peals of laughter. Cloud would never stop being grateful for having someone like Zack in his life. Everything seemed better with him present.

Eventually the moment passed, and Cloud was left with a somewhat sore head and an exhausted chest. For his part Zack had one of his signature cheek-splitting grins adorning his face.

"What do you say? We've got to go through Junon to get to Nibelheim. So I figure on the way back we can stop for a bit and you can go see the Vice President and see if this job is for you. If not well, it still means someone's finally noticed your skills. If so, you get a pretty cool opportunity. I mean I'd miss you, man, and everything, but there are plenty of missions which make me go through there. I'd be able to visit a lot."

"Nibelheim." The word was little more than a piece of dust. He could feel something small and hard forming in his throat.

"Isn't it awesome?" Zack used that word too much. "I was going to keep it a surprise, though with everything you've already had a big enough one for the day. And Sephiroth's coming too – I'll introduce you two. And you'll be able to see all your family and friends…" He petered off at the blond's lack of enthusiasm. "You okay?"

It took a fair bit of effort to keep his discomfort from showing. "I'm alright. Just all these things are happening all at once. It's really overwhelming."

To go home as a trooper… While his mother would certainly be thrilled to see him whatever his position, he hadn't been on the best terms with most of the town. When had been about to leave he had bragged anyone who would listen that next time they saw him he'd been someone important, a SOLDIER First Class. He'd been supremely overconfident, and here he was returning to Nibelheim without so much as making Third. It would be humiliating.

He grasped the one escape he could see. "Are you sure the Vice President will be okay with this? I don't think he's the sort who likes being kept waiting."

"Yeah, but don't you want to see everybody?"

No. Definitely not. He could just see it now, returning home to the looks of the townspeople, and jeers of the children who had bullied him. He doubted any of them except maybe Tifa – _disappointment brimming in those soft brown eyes _– would be surprised at his failure, and to top it off, all of this would be happening in the presence of Sephiroth, his idol. The thought quickly became unbearable, grinding his insides together until they were paste.

"Yes, but this could easily be a once in a life time opportunity. If I don't take it as soon as possible, I might lose it altogether." The words weren't exactly a lie; nonetheless, they bothered him. It was necessary though. If Zack knew the real reason he didn't want to go he'd become even more insistent that Cloud come along. He'd want him to confront the issue, resolve it. Cloud liked his friend but sometimes Zack just couldn't leave well enough alone and this wasn't his business. "I'll come with you all the way to Junon to check it out. Then if I don't like it, I'll try to catch up with you."

Zack seemed unsettled, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to find some sort of equilibrium. "Are you sure about this, Cloud? This is your _home _we're talking about."

"Yes," he said. "I'm sure."

The words scrapped across his tongue like sandpaper.

* * *

**8**

Tifa waited at the town gates. She tried to ignore the rapidly dark sky overhead, wriggling her toes fervently in an attempt to keep feeling in them. A few minutes later she was forced to wrap her arms around her to keep in a bit more warmth.

Maybe she shouldn't have worn her cowgirl outfit. It didn't cover her waist and most of her legs, and toques were much warmer than her curhat, but it was her favourite outfit and she hadn't expected to be out this late.

Not that she was cold or anything. She'd seen the trooper that had come with the SOLDIERs; his armour bulging awkwardly from the many sweaters he was wearing underneath and his face completely obscured by the scarves wrapping it. Clearly he was city-born, unused to the tiniest bit of cold. Meanwhile Tifa was from _Nibelheim_ dammit and she could handle anything the weather could throw at her.

"Hey there little lady, aren't you a might chilly?" said a friendly voice.

She turned to see the black-haired SOLDIER approach with two mugs, their contents sending lazy clouds of steam up to join their brothers in the sky.

"I'm not cold," she stated emphatically. The comment was punctuated by the chattering of her teeth.

The First pushed a warm mug into her hand with a knowing look. "Sure you're not. Just like back in Gongaga we weren't hot whenever outsiders came to town. We would all make a big effort to put on extra layers of clothes. It's a miracle we didn't all die of heat exhaustion."

"Gongaga? I've never heard of it."

"I'm not surprised. It's a small town on the southern end of the continent and stinking hot during the summer. There's a mako reactor and nothing else out there."

"The last bit's a lot like here," she said.

"Yeah." There must have been a private joke in the statement because he smiled then. It wasn't like when she'd seen the General smile when he'd first arrived. When Sephiroth had smiled, the corners of his mouth had been too sharp, too brittle and then when he'd laughed, it had been like the sound of ice when it cracked underfoot. She'd had a hard time seeing this man as the hero Cloud had idolized.

This SOLDIER was the complete opposite. A lot like the hot chocolate she sipped from cup, his very presence seemed warm and comforting. When she'd first seen him from the distance, she'd thought he was Cloud all grown up, having dyed his hair. She'd run over and nearly given him a hug, only to realise the difference half way through, causing her to nearly fall over in an attempt to stop.

"I'm Zack Fair by the way," he said.

"Tifa Lockhart."

Now on closer examination the difference between him and Cloud was much more evident, not just in his body but his manner as well. While she hadn't known Cloud especially well, she had observed a few things. Like for one she was fairly sure Cloud wouldn't have made idle conversation with a complete stranger, though he might have given her the mug before scuttling off in the opposite direction. He'd always been a shy if occasionally corny boy. It was one of the things that made him so sweet.

"So you're the mayor's daughter? That must be awesome. I bet you've got your own room and everything. I would've killed to have that when I was a kid. I had to share with my parents and that was a bit weird when they wanted to…" He seemed to remember his audience then. "Uh, never mind."

"Yes, I've got my own room."

She suppressed the urge to bite her lip. She'd actually suggested sharing with Zangan, her martial arts teacher, who was currently in town, but her father had automatically rebuffed the idea. Dad had been increasingly overprotective since her mother's death, even demanding to witness her every lesson as if the old man might try something with her. He'd become increasingly suffocating as of late as her father had started setting up get-togethers with the few boys he liked. She was fifteen and sixteen was the normal marrying age in Nibelheim.

She was was at the point where she wished something to happen as long as it would get her out of here. She wasn't picky. Anything would do.

"If Gongaga is so warm, why aren't you cold?" she asked trying to pull the subject in another direction. "Is that jumpsuit heated or something?"

"Nah, SOLDIERs tend to run hot. It's got to be incredibly cold before we need extra gear. Even then, it takes a lot more than frosty weather to freeze Zack Fair," he boasted and spontaneously started a set of squats. He seemed to be doing them way too fast too. Her sensei had always told her much to her chagrin they more effective when done slowly, but she decided it would be best if she said nothing about the frankly bizarre behaviour

"So anyways, why are you out here 'not being cold'?" he said.

"I was waiting for someone. A SOLDIER." She'd been so certain he would come. After all who was better to send on a mission to Nibelheim than a Nibelheimer? She wanted him to come.

"Oh, anyone I know?"

"Maybe. He's a really nice boy, a little shy though. He's got this cute spiky blond hair that looks a lot like a Chocobo's feathers and—"

"Chocobo, eh?" Zack chuckled. "I'll have to tell Cloud that when I see him."

"You know him? Is he coming too?" she said. All at once excitement flared throughout her body. Some of liquid from her mug splashed down her hand, but she barely noticed its hot sting.

"Yep, though he's not a SOLDIER."

"He's not, but…"

"He didn't manage to get through the exam," Zack explained.

Tifa stared at her boots, feeling disappointed for herself. That night on the water tower he'd promised to come rescue her, and now her birthday was looming ever closer. She still wanted to see the world, not to settle right away and start having kids like the other girls. Admittedly being saved from her own hometown, her own father, probably wasn't what either of them thought a rescue would entail; nonetheless she desperately wanted Cloud here so she could borrow a bit of his strength. She didn't want to break the news to her father by herself.

She angrily banished the self-pity. She hadn't spent years of martial arts training just become a princess in a tower the moment the first obstacle was thrown in her way. Even more importantly, Cloud not getting into SOLDIER wasn't about any stupid fantasies she'd had as a child. This wasn't about her – it was about Cloud.

Even years later she still remembered the determined little boy declaring that he was going to be the best, like General Sephiroth. The little boy who – after all arguments the townspeople about why he should stay – had left. He'd broken the set mold and with a hand full of change, crossed the vast ocean and made it all the way to Midgar on his own. Well Tifa had met Sephiroth and maybe he was tough, but when it came to sheer determination she seriously doubted he could compare to that little boy, let alone the adult he was becoming.

"I don't know who picks who passes and who fails, but whoever they are, they're morons," she declared.

"Agreed."

At this point Tifa decided she liked Zack Fair.

"Except maybe the person who picked you," she added.

"Thanks... I think. For what it's worth someone else noticed him."

"Who?"

"The vice president of the whole flipping company!"

Zack gave her another broader smile and this time Tifa joined him. She _knew_ it. She knew if anyone deserved a step up in the world, it would be Cloud. As for her, somehow she'd find a way to tell her father and rescue herself. And Zack seemed nice. Maybe he'd be willing to give her a ride out of here. Maybe she'd get to see Cloud.

They toasted to Cloud's achievement with cocoa, the steaming liquid keeping the chill of the night at bay

* * *

**7**

"Look, it is bad enough you people take forever to arrive when _your _technology starts poisoning _our _land. Now you want to drag my daughter your mess," growled Mayor Lockhart at Fair.

Zangan didn't particularly like Lockhart. The man had taken his grief at the loss of his wife and wore it like a funeral shroud. Whoever he had been before his wife's death, the current Athan Lockhart tended to have a distrustful nature and the few people he excluded from his suspicious examinations, he tried to constantly control. Personally he suspected the only reason the rest of town kept him as mayor was the fact nobody else wanted the job.

However when it came to Shinra, Zangan tended to agree. There had been too many places he'd seen trashed, too many people gone missing and too many acts of casual cruelty by the company for him to be comfortable around any of its operatives. He took some reassurance that it was SOLDIERs leading this mission with no sign of those men and women in their dark suits and ties present.

It was only a mild reassurance though and he tried to keep his gaze from straying to the single trooper. It was very hard. Even after all these years, Shinra's infantry still made a hand grip his heart. The trooper stood at the path leading up Mount Nibel, so still and silent that you'd have thought him a statue. Those red lenses on the helmet were like three glowing, globule eyes. And with the scarf up and covering the trooper's face, you could only imagine an alien thing lurking beneath.

"_Dad_, leave Zack alone. I volunteered to be their guide," Tifa said.

"You're a young woman. I see no reason why you should be the one in danger."

"I'm the best fighter in Nibelheim except for Master Zangan."

"Then Zangan can go."

"But he doesn't know the mountain passes the way I do. They could easily get lost. I'm the best person for the job. Just let me—"

"No, this is not your decision."

At this point Fair attempted to edge back into the argument. "Look sir, I've been called a pretty good fighter. I'm sure whatever we find up there I can take care of it. Tifa will be perfectly okay with me." Zangan could have told him that saying that wasn't a good idea and winced, knowing what was to come.

Lockhart's attention snapped back to the brunet faster than a snapping rubber band. "How do you know my daughter?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know my daughter's name. She knows yours. _How do you know my daughter?_" The dark oak of his eyes seemed to light on fire.

"We just shared a drink last night." Fair seemed to have missed the implication or he probably wouldn't have said that.

Tifa shoved herself between the two men. Zangan approvingly noted as his student positioned her feet so that her father would trip should he try something. "Please Dad, it's not what you think. Zack was just being nice. That's all."

It seemed like a scene out a bad comedy. The father getting the wrong impression. The suspected boyfriend absolutely confused. ('_Wait a sec, I've already got a girlfriend._) Meanwhile the daughter was frantically trying to keep everything from going wrong. A group of onlookers had even gathered to watch the show. Zangan might have thought it funny if it weren't for the fact that everyone involved hadn't been clearly upset.

"_Enough._"

The word was barely a whisper. Nothing more was needed.

Sephiroth approached, his every step strangely light as if he disdained touching the ground, the crowd of parting for him without prompt.

"You," he said. Tifa shrank back as he addressed her."You know the way to the mako reactor, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then you will guide us there." There was no request in the statement.

"Yes."

"But…" the mayor began, but the Winter General merely looked at him – a small dismissive glance of those glowing eyes before he walked away – and while Lockhart's lips continued to move, no sound emerged.

* * *

**6**

Zack was worried.

Ever since they had gone to the reactor Sephiroth had started acting strange. It wasn't though Sephiroth had ever been a cuddly person – the guy could probably make the word 'poodle' sound menacing – but recently he'd taken turned that aloofness into a wall surrounding him. Zack had tried to pierce it, trying to talk to him.

Nothing Zack said seemed to budge Sephiroth from that creepy basement. He spent hours down there reading what seemed to be thousands of old tomes, sporadically muttering to himself in a voice cracked by dust. He'd even attempted to take one them away, but Sephiroth had casually taken the book back, plucking it from his fingers as if Zack were nothing more than a shelf without a word of acknowledgment..

Zack hadn't tried that again.

Sephiroth would eventually have to come out of there. A SOLDIER could go a while without eating or drinking, but sooner or later the guy had to come out, right? Zack just didn't want to think too closely on how Sephiroth was handling the bathroom problem.

So he'd spent most of his time in town. A little bit of it was spent with Tifa when it was clear her dad wasn't around to freak out. Most of it was spent with the other townspeople. Plenty of people were interested in Midgar, not usual considering it was the exact opposite of this little place. A number also wanted to know about Cloud too. Apparently only a few other people ever left Nibelheim and those ones went away in groups. They hadn't done it alone and as a teen like Cloud had, and they took a certain pride that one of their own could rise so high and so fast. Zack wished Cloud was here to see it.

Zack wasn't an idiot no matter what some people thought. He'd guessed that Cloud had gone to investigate the Vice President's offer mainly because he was embarrassed that he hadn't made SOLDIER. The blond had made a big show of rationalizing it and he'd played along just because he didn't want to push. Though next time he saw Cloud, Zack was going to tell him about how proud everyone was of him. Cloud had a nasty tendency to downplay his accomplishments. He seemed incapable of understanding how awesome he was.

He had just gotten back from dinner with Cloud's mom. The lady had persistently grilled him about her son. How was he? Where was he? Did he eat his vegetables? Did he wear clean underwear? Zack had been left with the rather difficult scenario of trying to eat while answering five questions at once. Did Cloud have a girlfriend? Did Zack know anyone ladies who would be good candidates to become Cloud's girlfriend?

On that note when he went back to Junon, he was going to have to mention a certain brunette to Cloud. On the day they headed up to the reactor when it as clear that Cloud wasn't going to show up anytime soon, Zack had been bemused to notice she had switched that cute cowgirl outfit for more practical jeans and a sweater. Somebody had a crush. He was _so_ going to have to mercilessly tease Cloud about this.

Eventually the meal had finished, and now Zack lay on his bed in Shinra Mansion, suffused with nostalgia. Ms. Strife had reminded him a lot of his own mom. He missed her and Dad too. Maybe on the way back he could convince Sephiroth to stop in Gongaga, allowing him to catch up with the folks. Aeris lived too far away to actually meet his family, but perhaps he could borrow a few of Mom's recipes and give her a taste of his home. She'd probably like that.

Zack wiggled around on the bed, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't easy. The mattress was literally ancient. The only reason he stayed here and not the hotel was that the Nibelheimers were being paranoid about Sephiroth's behaviour and wanted someone to keep an eye on him.

The First stared upwards, his vision going in and out of focus, the intricate metalwork of the light fixture blurring occasionally as sleep threatened to pull him under.

It was then he thought he heard laughter.

* * *

**5**

Nibelheim burned and Tifa watched.

_I take it back._

The crackle of the burning wood sounded like a thousand sharp little voices, all of them mocking her.

She had wanted to get away so very badly. And in one horrible moment she'd willing for any happen provided it made it easier for her to leave.

Soon enough there wouldn't be any Nibelheim to stay in. Her wish granted.

_I'll be good. I'll never leave. Just let me take it back._

She stumbled towards a person sprawled on the ground and with a shaky hand reached out to touch his throat. His name was Isaac Woodover. He ran the inn and when he had spare time, he had taught her and the other children how to read.

There was no pulse. But why should there? It seemed crazily hilarious in hindsight. Of course there was no pulse. There was no blood in his body to pass through his throat. It was over his clothes and the ground, and on Tifa too.

It had gotten on her when she'd kneeled down to check on the corpse. It was there on her chest, on her knees and hands, burrowing into the tiny crevices of her skin. But that was alright. It was a good thing. The blood should be on her. It belonged there.

_Please…_

"SEPHIROTH!" someone yelled.

Papa? Her father's voice woke something in Tifa, and she took a hacking breath, drawing the smoke deep until her lungs howled. Blearily she could make out her father's form charging up the mountain after the Monster.

No. Not him. Not him too.

She forced herself to her feet and ran after him.

_...I don't want to be alone._

* * *

**4**

This was all Zack's fault.

The townspeople had been scared. Sure Sephiroth had been acting weird, but Zack had been so sure they were overreacting. After all, heroes don't hurt innocents.

He should've taken them seriously. He should've tried harder to get through to Sephiroth, to save him from himself.

He was distantly aware as he walked through the mountain, somehow managing to find his way through the winding paths.

As he approached the entrance of the main reactor, there sprawled on the ground like a sick welcoming mat was the corpse of Tifa's father. A little while later he found Tifa, limp on the stairs not even trying to stem the blood flowing from her body.

He tried to check on her, but despite the pain it must have caused, she turned away, curling into a ball, terrified by his very presence. "I hate you! I hate Shinra! I hate SOLDIER! _I hate you all!_" she screamed, her body shaking with the effort of it.

He wanted to stay with her. Comfort her. Tell it wasn't like that, but Zack couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Her wounds nasty but slow to bleed. She had time. He'd come back for her… provided he survived. He drew the Buster Sword. The weight of it seemed incredibly light in comparison to the one already on his shoulders. Sephiroth needed to be stopped.

Heroes didn't let innocents die.

Time to find out if he was one.

* * *

**3**

Cloud wasn't sure what madness had encouraged him to even think of working for Rufus Shinra. Yes, it was just a ploy to get out of going home. But when faced with a room that he could've fit his mother's house in, suddenly the idea of going home seemed very appealing.

Lazing on the couch, the figure gazed at him, seemingly amused.

Was this really the Vice President? Wasn't he kind of young? What was Cloud supposed to do anyways? Should he sit down as well? Or salute and give his name rank and serial number like he would to General Heidegger? He wished the Vice President would stop looking at like that and actually say something.

Apparently the other teenager could read minds because at this point he said, "You would be Cloud Strife, would you not?"

"Yes, sir," he belted out. To his horror his military training had taken over. "Private Strife, reporting for duty, sir."

"From Nibelheim, correct?"

"Yes, sir." He sounded incredibly hokey and yes, the teenager definitely looked amused.

"You are not here about an assignment. You are here about a job offer. Such dedication to military protocol is hardly required," the Vice President said, gesturing to the opposite couch. "Please relax. Would you like something to drink? I have a vintage of Wutain whiskey if that may be of interest. I find they have a quite unusual interpretation of the Continental drink. Quite palatable."

Cloud sagged onto the couch and said the first thing that popped into his mind. "Your dad lets you drink?"

The Vice President blinked before letting out a smooth laugh. "I suspect he doesn't care much one way or another. So shall we?" Cloud didn't answer. "Or would warm milk be of more interest? Or perhaps a box of juice?"

Cloud stopped mentally kicking himself long enough to finally put out an answer. "Water would be fine, sir."

It was a bit of a shock when he saw the Vice President himself get up and head to the bar. He'd always had always had the idea that rich men and women had People to do those sort of things. Now when he looked past all the fanciness of the apartment, he realized he could also spotted a stove, a fridge and what looked like a washer/dryer.

His search was cut sort as the teenager returned with not one, but two glasses of ice water.

"So," he said. "I imagine you are wondering what the opportunity is."

"Yes, sir, it wasn't specified in the message, sir."

Shinra raised a single red-gold eyebrow. "You need not 'sir' me so much, Private Strife. Considering your position, provided you accept it, you would be well within your rights to call me Rufus."

"What position would that be, si— I mean, Rufus?"

"It would be a long term assignment. Due to… _complicated_ circumstances, my previous bodyguard has taken another assignment. I am in need of a replacement."

Cloud just stared.

"Admittedly my current funds are not what they used to be, but your pay would be more than it currently is."

"There's got be hundreds of people more suited." This had to be a joke. To hell with what Zack said, this couldn't be Rufus Shinra. Any moment now a platoon of troopers would jump out of the closet and shout, 'Gotcha!'

"True," Shinra admitted, "but they would not necessarily suit me. Reports of your conduct have been quite exemplary and you are young enough to be moulded to my unique requirements." He passed Cloud a check. "As a show of my good faith, your first month's pay."

He'd been telling the truth. While the check wasn't huge amount of money – Zack made over ten times this amount – it was definitely an improvement. With this much he could save and be able send some his mother back home, but…

"I was hoping to take the SOLDIER exam next year."

Shinra was unruffled. "As I understand thing, you've already taken the exam before."

"Yes."

"And?"

"I didn't get in."

"So you plan to retake the test simply for the pleasure of failing again?"

Even months after the first rejection the knowledge stung and before he knew it, he was on his feet glaring at the person had the audacity to rub it in. It took a moment to remember who exactly he was angry at, causing him to sit back down nearly as fast as he'd gotten up in the first place.

Oddly enough Shinra didn't seem perturbed in the slightest by the display, and instead made a pacifying movement when Cloud started to apologize. "My forgiveness is hardly necessary, Private Strife. Your reaction was hardly unmerited considering my behaviour." If anything Shinra seemed _pleased_. "Despite the fact that my words were ill thought-out, they were not without a point. Would I be correct in assuming that becoming a SOLDIER has been your life's dream?"

Cloud nodded.

"A not uncommon, though certainly noble goal," the Vice President said, raising his glass to the notion. "It must have been devastating when they decided you were not suitable for the program. Have you given much thought as to what you would do if you failed once more?"

"I would try again." Cloud would keep on trying even if he was in a wheelchair by the time they let him in.

"Are you aware that SOLDIER treatments rarely work on subjects in their late teens? Something about the slowing of the growing process hampers the treatments. It's the reason that while the program has been around nearly ten years, you almost never see a SOLDIER older than twenty five, with the exception of Sephiroth of c. Add to this that they doubtlessly had their reasons for not accepting you in the first place whether medical or otherwise... I make these points, not out of malice, but to show you the simple truth: your dream is dead."

He wanted very badly to launch himself at the other teenager. To smash his face in. Just like all those fights with bullies back home. But he wasn't a child anymore. He couldn't go around lashing out at smallest provocation. Those days were gone and unlike the teasing back then, there seemed to be no mockery in the other's tone.

The hardest thing about Shinra's comments was that they sounded true.

"For what in may be worth, the world is not divided between SOLDIERs and those who are not. There are many places for talented people like yourself. Your old dream is gone and turned to dust," Rufus said. "Let me give you a new one."

* * *

**2**

He was a master of a thousand disciplines, a hand-to-hand combat teacher of no small renown. But once the fires started, Zangan froze.

_Wutai…_

It took him nearly ten minutes to rally his faculties and start dragging people out of burning buildings.

It was then he saw his little student run up the path where Sephiroth had gone and a minute later the other SOLDIER Fair go the same way. Even then, all he think about was immediately leaving. No. Not leaving. Fleeing. Run away as fast as he could. Never stay in the same place too long. Because if you did, they would find you and then – if you were lucky – kill you. He'd heard rumours of what Shinra did to inconvenient Wutains.

_Coward. _All his skills and at the end of the day he was a coward, and this burning shame more than anything as simple as bravery or affection, forced him to chase after them.

He arrived too late to help much. The damage was clear. The mayor's body on the ground, gutted like a fish. Fair lying there like a broken doll, his limbs occasionally twitching. Tifa unconscious, the blood oozing from her wound painting the dull gray concrete of the floor bright red.

He started to approach his student, when Fair spoke, "Please… you've got to finish him. I… I can't do any more. I tried. I really did. I tried_._" His voice was taunt as he begged. "He won't stop. If you don't… _He won't stop._ You've got to kill him. Please..."

Zangan wanted to run. Grab his student and leave. Every fibre in his body was screaming to do it, but he couldn't. He _wouldn't_. It had been bad enough in the old days, when Shinra had rained destruction using the power of their weapons. However even that hadn't been enough for them; they had taken that same power and made it flesh, thinking they could tame it to a collar. If only they had looked in the mirror before making the fateful decision.

This was what they had unleashed on the world. A creature with all the might of Shinra and all the insanity of man. It had to be stopped. Zangan had to stop running or there would be nowhere else to run to.

So he removed his cloak, wrapping it around Tifa's middle to staunch the bleeding, then gently moved Fair, positioning him so his head was supported.

"I'll be back for you," he said. "Both of you." And with that Zangan went to face destiny.

He couldn't shake the feeling that this destiny wasn't his.

* * *

**1**

"Let me give you a new one."

Cloud could leave now. There was still time to change his mind. He could rent a motorbike and go after Zack and Sephiroth. He might be a few days late; nevertheless, he'd get to see everybody.

He could return home as a failure.

A nothing.

"Okay."

* * *

**0**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Thicker Than Blood  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters:** Cloud, Rufus  
**Summary:** Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim. AU

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, I wanted to make a few things clear. I plan to have this story be an original Final Fantasy VII fanfic, meaning it's based primarily on the first game. That being said I've borrowed concepts and characters from the rest of the Compilation, but if I do my job well it won't cause any confusion to those who aren't familiar with them.

And people who know who Genesis is, I'm really sorry to say that unless things drastically change with my plans, he will not be showing up other than an occasional mention (and even that may not happen). Depending on your perspective, he may be dead, still wreaking havoc out there or be some guy you've never heard of.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_Four Years Later…_

Cloud Strife threw himself back as a sharp beak stabbed at his side. The Epiolnis hissed as its attack met only air and Cloud answered with the thunder of his machinegun.

Quickly it drew away, bringing up one large wing-like claw up to guard its head. The fiery crest crowning its brow rose upward, quivering with anger, but otherwise gave no sign of being harmed. He'd heard about Epiolni. Their plumage was notoriously tough, often used in the manufacture of bullet-proof vests, but seeing it in person was completely different. He really should have brought more weapons.

Despite himself, Cloud couldn't help but find the entire thing absurd. This was supposed to be nothing more than escorting livestock between Costa del Sol and Junon via cargo ship. Simple. He'd expected to spend the moments in between throwing up being bored out of his mind.

He shot it again. Even if the bullets couldn't puncture, it had to hurt. The bird-like beast stumbled under the onslaught, before slowly, reluctantly, starting to go backward. Cloud walked after it, continuing to fire, herding it back toward the cargo hold, all the while mindful of the creature's black slits which coldly examined him through the gaps of its feathers.

They finally reached the hold. Just a little bit further and it would all be over. Unfortunately, this was where the Epiolnis stopped, its talons loudly scratching the metal floor as it tried to find purchase. Cloud carefully pointed his gun at the ground for one last burst. No need to hurt the beast anymore, just scare it enough for it to go back inside and have time to lock it in.

This never happened though as it launched itself towards him, beak and claws all reaching for him as it flew through the air.

Without a second thought, Cloud drew his knife and thrust. A second later he sidestepped as the corpse landed at his feet.

The Epiolnis lay there, a deep crack in its beak, and he carefully leaned down, only relaxing when he saw the gash in its neck. He didn't have time to enjoy his victory as an angry, high-pitched chattering filled the air, and he looked up to see four other Epiolni moving towards him. Great. Just Great. Here he was with most if not all of the cargo had escaped and was running amok. One he could handle, probably even two, but he really didn't feel like testing his luck against all of them at once.

At least it was better than being sea sick.

Then he heard a thunder of a different sort. Cloud chanced a glance upward and was rewarded by the sight of a helicopter approaching. Once the helicopter had finally caught up with the ship, something fell off.

No. That wasn't right. _Jumped _off.

It plummeted, quickly turning it into a dark blur. Cloud could barely make the form of a man, before it hit the ground. After rolling a few times to mitigate to the force of the fall, the figure sprang to his feet soon enough, doing a fast scan of the area before running towards Cloud's position. There was a short pause in his sprint though when Cloud made a crisp nod in his direction with which the figure returned with one of his own.

At this point, Epiolnis drew closer and Cloud knew he couldn't afford to be distracted any longer. He slowly edged into where the shipping containers lined the deck. The monsters grew bolder at the sign of retreat, following close behind, barely slowed by the occasional burst from his machine gun.

The gigantic crates made a maze, the tall, narrow corridors making up the various twists and turns were claustrophobic and blocked out all but the rare sliver of light. As his helmet automatically switched to night-vision, the creatures turned crimson.

Cloud's back hit slammed into metal, echoing loudly in the tight space. He'd hit a dead end. His gun was running out of bullets, nevermind the fact that it hadn't been that effective in the first place. So he dropped the machinegun, freeing himself from the dead weight, and once more drew his combat knife, crouching in preparation. It had worked last time. If necessary it might save him again.

He could hear the creatures' greedy beaks clacking expectantly. They were hardly dumb. They could see his situation. Their dark eyes glittered with primal intelligence as they coiled back their necks, preparing to thrust into flesh.

"_NOW!_" he shouted.

Up above, straddled between two crates was the figure. At Cloud's command, he dropped downward with broadsword between his legs, slamming into the back of the first monster. Then, using the still-toppling body to push off, spun around to decapitate the second. Cloud didn't bother getting involved, only keeping his knife up in case he was attacked. The figure parried and jabbed, seemingly dancing with the monsters, leaving a river of feathers and blood flowing behind him.

This was the power of SOLDIER and only a fool stood in its way.

Between the tightness of the space and the stranger's skill, it was over soon enough.

After wiping his sword on one of the monster's bodies, the SOLDIER – a Second Class if his lavender uniform was to go by – turned to Cloud. "Would you be Captain Strife?" he said in a short clipped tone.

It took a second to process that. "Uh… yeah," he said eventually. Even a month after his promotion, the title seemed false to his ears.

If the awkwardness of the answer threw him off, the Second's reaction was entirely hidden by his helmet. "I'm here to provide backup. Is the Vice President secure?"

"Yes," he answered. "I left him on the bridge while I investigated. There's a fair number of locks and the doors are quite thick. He should be fi—"

The boom of a shotgun rang through the air.

"Dammit, Rufus," he swore, then turned to the SOLDIER and said, "Go."

The SOLDIER didn't bother to wait for further instructions and leapt to the top of a shipping container, heading quickly away. Cloud followed. Maybe he couldn't match the seemingly effortless speed of the enhanced but he could try, running full tilt towards the bridge.

By the time he reached it, he was almost completely exhausted. Though as he took in the sight before him, the tiny embers still within him woke, violently bursting into full-fledged flames

There, standing on the balcony out from the bridge, was Rufus with shotgun in hand. The ocean wind was whipping into face, causing a lock of red-gold hair to fall against his cheek and an Epiolnis was scampering up the stairs towards him. A sane person might have shot the monster right away or tried to escape.

But not Rufus Shinra. No, he had to first casually flip the hair out of his face, and when the monster was barely a metre away,_ then_ shoot it. Because doing it the other way made way too much sense. Cloud was too annoyed to be grateful that apparently the shotgun was powerful enough to get the job done.

"Rufus," he said when he finally reached the other man, "what are you doing?"

"Honestly, Cloud, I know observation skills are not your primary area of expertise, but I thought 'what' I was doing was rather obvious." Rufus took aim at another monster, this time using only one hand, hitting it neatly in the head.

"I mean what are you doing out here. I gave orders to the trooper with you to keep you indoors and out of sight."

"Do you now? I'm afraid I never heard a thing about that."

At this point the trooper in question stepped forward. "I'm sorry, sir," he said as he addressed Cloud. The poor private looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, shaking like a leaf. "I tried to do what you ordered, but he…" He quickly trailed off.

"Rufus_…_" Cloud growled.

"Yes?"

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"You _looked _at him," Cloud accused.

Rufus had the gall to act like he didn't understand. "I'm not allowed to look at my illustrious protectors?" he said. The question was practically dripping with innocence.

If there ever was a case for outlawing sarcasm, Rufus was it.

"We're all clear," came a voice from below, the measured, professional tone contrasted wildly with the conversation above. The SOLDIER loped lightly up the stairs. Soon enough he joined the entire affair, his gaze shifting from the trooper attempting to blend into the wall, the Vice President smiling as if he'd just been declared the king of the world, and Captain Strife looking like he was on the verge strangling aforementioned vice president.

"Is everything okay here?" the Second asked carefully. When he didn't get an answer, he added, "Are you okay, Mr. Shinra? Should I signal the helicopter to prepare for medical transport?"

This at least provoked a response. "No, I do not require medical aid," Rufus snapped. "And in the future, SOLDIER, I am not to be addressed as 'Mr. Shinra'. That name belongs to my father. Not to me. You may, on the other hand, call me 'sir', 'Mr. Vice President' or – if you absolutely must – 'Mr. Rufus Shinra'."

Cloud rolled his eyes at this. It was one of Rufus' odder quirks – he absolutely despised being referred to solely by last name. When he was still new, he'd accidentally done it and then had 'accidentally' been assigned to latrine duty for a month. To his credit the Second apparently decided not to provoke Rufus further.

"So there's no other escaped animals?" Cloud interjected, glad to be changing the subject.

"Fairly sure. I did a once over the area, but you can check for yourself." With that he unlocked the bracer on his arm, reaching it to pluck an orb.

Cloud took it with a touch of trepidation. Materia was expensive and in the military generally only gave them to the more important members of the military. Even then, SOLDIERs didn't receive any until they achieved Second Class and Turks generally used gizmos to make up for the lack.

Focusing on it, the orb glowed bright yellow, pulsing in time to his heart. He was faced towards Rufus when he was overcome with a sudden flood of sensations. It was dizzying and he grasped the rail of the balcony to keep his balance. There were a bunch of different feelings that were invoked but the overwhelming one was _health_.

"Cloud, is this really the time for motion sickness?" Rufus always did have a weird way of expressing concern. Or at least this was what Cloud had come to believe was the executive's way of showing it. It could be hard to tell with Rufus. Sometimes the best thing to do with his frustrating behaviour was to simply ignore it.

So that's just what Cloud did, focusing on the trooper instead. Sense materia. He'd known what it was before using it; nonetheless, he hadn't been prepared for the reality. _Health_ the trooper seemed to sing despite his pale pallor. Afterward he examined the Second and got the distant sensation of pain and he realised there was a slash in the sleeve of his arm, the wound wasn't bad though, sealing before his very eyes courtesy of the mako in the SOLDIER's blood.

"Well?" Rufus inquired.

Cloud ignored him and looked over the rest of the ship. Even though he couldn't literally see them, when he faced towards the bridge, he could tell there were other people there and below the ship in what he assumed was the engine room there seemed to be a few others. Finally he searched around the ship for Epiolni.

"Yes, he's right. The rest of the livestock are still in the cargo hold." Hopefully those ones were still secure.

Relaxing his grip on the orb, he felt both a bit saddened as the foreign feelings fled. While it wasn't easy for Turks and SOLDIERs to get their hands on materia, troopers were lucky to so much as look at the stuff, being expected to make do with cumbersome spell grenades. It would probably be a long time before he was allowed to use one again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to doubt you," he said as he gave it back to the Second.

"It's your duty to personally oversee the health and safety of your charge," was the response. Cloud figured this more or less translated into that the Second wasn't offended.

"Personally, it's_ my_ duty to point out _your_ charge is getting away," pitched in the trooper.

Not again. "Rufus, get back here!"

He might as well been talking to a wall for all the good it did him. Rufus was already down the stairs and headed in the direction of the hold.

"Private," he said to the trooper, "I need you to get on the radio to the helicopter. Tell them what's going on." The infantryman quickly scampered away, apparently glad he wasn't expected to chase after the crazy executive.

He pushed off from the balcony's railing, settling his weight back onto his feet. Without asking, the Second steadied him as his legs, already tired from earlier, groaned in protest. "Thanks," he said.

"I'm doing my job." The SOLDIER shrugged. "It wouldn't help matters if I ended up having to rescue the Vice Presidentand you."

They jogged after Rufus, catching up to him just before he entered the hold.

"You're not going in there," Cloud stated.

"I'm not? You have to admit such behaviour is unusual for domesticated creatures," Rufus said. "It certainly merits investigation."

He had been thinking along similar lines. This sort of behaviour _was_ unusual. He'd heard of Epiolni being vicious, though that was due to mako leaching into their drinking water. Normal untainted ones only ate small rodents and fish. They'd only attack when provoked and this one was supposed to be well-used to human company.

That being said, he definitely didn't want Rufus going in there. Unfortunately he seriously doubted the executive was going to behave himself, especially considering he was wearing that self-satisfied smirk that implied he'd already won. Cloud seriously considered knocking Rufus out and dragging him back to the bridge. It would serve him right.

It was quite a tempting notion, and he was reluctant to let it go. Eventually he relented, if did it Rufus likely wouldn't have the good manners to fire him.

"If you get killed, I'll murder you," he growled.

"You do realise that sentence makes no sense whatsoever, don't you?"

Not bothering to respond, he took the opportunity to enter the hold first, before a certain executive could. Clearing the area, he motioned for the others to follow.

The cargo hold was gloomy. The fluorescent lights above flickered anxiously, only reluctantly piercing the corners of the room, leaving the velvety shadows there virtually untouched. When Cloud laid eyes on where the rest of the livestock was kept, for one horrible second he thought that the rest of the animals had recently escaped. It came as a fervent relief when he spotted a bit of plumage poking out of one of the stalls.

Slowly he approached it and cautiously looked it over. Only minutes before he'd been leery of the animals, but now… The Epiolnis was squeezed as far back into its stall as possible, its tail pushed in a hundred different directions from the effort of getting just a little further away from the door. The next stall contained an Epiolnis standing their frozen, only its slight quivering signalling that it was still alive. Further back was another animal, this one scratching at the door of its stall – it was a fruitless effort though, its claws were already worn down to stubs.

A moan pierced the suffocating silence and he found yet another Epiolnis, this one half hanging out of its compartment. Its beak was hopelessly shattered; meanwhile its tongue poked out of the shattered remains, helplessly twisting and turning like a worm on wet pavement.

The stall's lock had massive dents on it, apparently battered until finally it broke. Didn't the first one that escaped have a crack in its beak? Did the other ones too? Probably. He could see similar marks on the locks of the other empty compartments.

"Gentlemen, I do believe I've found the source of our problems," said Rufus.

At furthest reaches of the hold was a human lying face down, his or her body twisted at an unnatural angle . Cloud's jaw clinched as he touched the person's skin. Cold. A rather grim part of him noted that at least he wouldn't have to waste any of potions. Further examination revealed gouges in the corpse's back. He had been apparently trampled.

Carefully he rolled the body over.

What the—

"Captain Strife, is something wrong?" the SOLDIER asked.

This wasn't right. They had all died years ago.

"Do you know this man?" Rufus inquired.

"I… It's… He just resembles someone I used to know, that's all." he answered. He was just seeing things.

"Is that so?" Rufus kneeled down to get closer to the corpse. His nose wrinkled when it soon became apparent that whoever he used to be, he hadn't had a bath in months. "Anyone in particular?"

"Davin." he said. "He was one of my distant cousins from back home." Not that it had stopped them from getting into the odd argument about whose turn it was to play on the water tower.

"Yes, I can see how that might be disconcerting."

It had been a long time since Nibelheim had been destroyed by monster attacks, killing the entire village, including two SOLDIERs and his mother. Even years later he was shaken by the knowledge that he should've been there. If he'd been there maybe he could've done something to change things.

In reflection his reasons for not going home seemed so incredibly flimsy, weaker than tissue paper. Yes, hadn't gotten into SOLDIER, but he was hardly alone there; there were thousands of applicants each year. At the very least he could've seen them all one last time, but his damnable pride had gotten in the way.

Rufus seemed to have sensed his darkening mood and gave him a sharp tap on the shoulder. "If a First Class SOLDIER, never mind General Sephiroth, was unable to do anything… Well, to put it delicately, it would be completely presumptuous of you to think you could have saved them."

Privately Cloud wasn't sure he agreed. Nonetheless it provided an odd sort of comfort. He looked the body once more. Yes, there were some strong similarities, still he hadn't seen Davin since they were kids and he'd been a year younger than Cloud. Who knew what he would've looked like as a grownup? Besides Davin's eyes had been brown. Not vivid green.

A strong gust whisked through the room and finally snapped Cloud out of his rather morbid nostalgia. Outside, the helicopter was landing and the whirlwind of its blades creating a loud rumble that blocked out everything but the loudest of noises. The pilot beckoned them to board and Cloud prepared to ask the Second to pick the Vice President up and carry him onboard. Rufus had already shown a love of running straight into danger and he didn't feel like waiting around for something else to go wrong.

Rufus' bored expression did nothing to discourage Cloud's sentiment. Then Rufus' features wavered for a split second as he set eyes on the pilot, a tall Wutain man, most likely a Turk if his dark suit was anything to go by. And to Cloud's surprise Rufus strode towards the vehicle as if that's what he had been planning all along, boarding without the slightest prompt.

Once they were inside, Rufus said to the Turk, "If possible I'd like Captain Strife to pilot."

The Turk's dark gaze met Rufus' blue.

"Honestly Tseng, he is perfectly capable. He does not, for example, crash his helicopter during ideal flying conditions like _some people_ I might name," Rufus retorted to the Turk.

"I'm qualified to fly as well." Up until now, the Second had been conspicuously silent and his stilted manner of speech seemed quite loud in the confines of the cabin. "I could act as his co-pilot."

This seemed to decide the Turk who removed the headset smoothly, handing it to Cloud, before buckling himself into the seat across from Rufus.

Cloud was relieved. He was bad enough on cars and boats (provided he wasn't fighting for his life), but helicopters were a special kind of torture. It had taken a bit of trial and error before he'd realised that he barely got motion sick when he was the piloting. Whether it was because Rufus had been trying to help or because he simply didn't want vomit on his impractical white suit, he felt grateful towards the executive.

And not just for that. Rufus might drive him nuts but it was the sort of nuts that kept him busy. Kept his mind off things. It gave him something to focus on other than everything he'd lost. His hometown. Tifa. His mother.

"I was under the impression that troopers don't know how to fly," the Second said from the co-pilot seat.

"Most don't. I do." Cloud checked the displays, carefully adjusting a few of the controls. "I was under the impression that SOLDIERs don't know how to fly."

"Most don't. I do. Honestly, to go up there and have all that blue sky to yourself… Who wouldn't want to fly?" It was the first thing out of the Second's mouth that didn't sound like he was reading from a script.

At this point, the SOLDIER removed his helmet to reveal shaggy eyebrows and a short red crew-cut. Cloud felt a tiny stab at the sight. When the helmet had still been on, he'd been able to delude himself, just a little. He'd been able to convince himself that this was Zack, still alive and fighting side-by-side with him just like old times.

"I'm Luxiere," the SOLDIER said, reaching out a hand.

He shook it. "Cloud."

There was still a nasty bit of survivor's guilt that lived inside him. A part of himself that incessantly whispered all the things that might have happened if he'd made a different choice on that fateful day. But bit by bit it was quieting. His family and friends would always be a part of him, but now it was time to focus on the future.

The past was dead.

* * *

It holds you close ,

_wrapping around and around and around, touching every part_

cradling you in her arms

_not arms not legs not real not right_

a mother to your child

_not family NOT MY MOTHER_

whispering silken comforts in your ears.

_a thousand tiny tendrils, fondling each inch the skin_

Yes, you're right.

Your chest is hollow.

Anything that touches you echoes imperfection.

The void wrenches at you, sucking at the pale fragile shell encasing it

Cracks dance across your visage, until it is old leaves burning under the merciless sun

_Violation. nothing sacred or safe not anymore. _

_nothing more._

Nothing but purpose. Nothing but hope.

_hope? ripped, buried, stolen gonegonegonegonegone_

Hope. Duty.

Your lips are parched, ripping slightly as they part, copper on your tongue.

Your mouth is raised upward, in askance to the sky.

And the sky answers. The cruel sun imprisoned.

The stars shine. Their rays are soft, cool, refreshing as they gently caress your maimed skin,

Slithering down your dry throat and filling your belly.

_please, it hurts_

You bare it because you must.

_hurts_

Because you've been empty so long, being filled is strange, alien.

_hurts_

It is only the pangs of birth. Trust. Hope.

_hope_

You find yourself lying in afterbirth. The liquid glows rich emerald and the smell of it is almost beyond description, speaking of the ocean, flowers, dung, sweat and much more. The scent is a jittery bird, flittering from perch to perch, never settling long. The room encompassing you is sterile and cold with black tile covering the floor, the darkness of it seems to pull at you in, reluctant to let you be free out its grasp. Distant memories are strewn across its surface, their glistening metal edges and points seem to scream at you.

But that is all the past. They no longer mean anything to you, easily ignored nuisances.

The only thing here that holds your interest is the tube standing proud in all its shattered glory, a sea of crystal shards pouring out from its pierced heart. You stroke it reverently. This is your nurturer, your life-giver, the womb that brought you forth.

_cocoon_

It has done so much for you. And you owe it so very much. Nonetheless it gives you one last gift – in the confines of its glass you see yourself kneeling to its majesty and blazed upon your chest is the number '7', a sign that you are pledged to be a loyal servant and of the rightness therein. The mark of your master claiming you as His.

Lucky number seven. For some reason you find that funny.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Thicker Than Blood  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters:** Cloud, Rufus  
**Summary:**Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim. AU

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the really late update guys. Life's been crazy and Cloud refused to cooperate.

* * *

**Chapter 3  
**

* * *

So far the ride back to Junon had been quite mundane. A reality that undoubtedly assisted by the fact that Cloud was piloting – therefore not vomiting all over Rufus' suit – and also by the fact Tseng

Perhaps it was not tactful of him, but Rufus took a degree of glee in the Turk's weakness. Tseng was skilled in multiple disciplines. Martial arts, marksmanship, explosive, sabotage, spying. These were only a fraction of the abilities the Turk sported. Not so long ago he'd shared those skills with Rufus. 'Shared' being a relative term. How much choice he'd had in the matter was debatable.

Back when Rufus had still been a child and Tseng had still been his bodyguard, the Turk had insisted on training him. While the boy had been a eager student, there still had been moments where he'd been bored, tired or – as much as Rufus hated to admit – too lazy, digging his heels in and refusing to continue, only for Tseng to turn his stern gaze on him. Then he would _very_quickly try again. These sudden changes in his own behaviour were so jarring that for a while Rufus had been convinced that Tseng had been hitting him with Confuse spells.

Even without the aid of materia, Tseng had been at hard taskmaster with incredibly high standards. Seemingly impossibly high except if not for the fact that Tseng had already achieved them. But flying? While Tseng could quote aviation texts back to front, he simply had no feel for the art. Many a time growing up, he'd watched other Turks make excuses as to why they should be the one at the controls, including things such as 'I need the practice', 'I get cramped sitting still', and 'My fortune cookie told me to'. After years of trying to match Tseng's skill, it was nice to know there was at least one area where he easily outstripped his mentor.

Rufus eyed the man in the opposite seat speculatively. Tseng apparently had no interest in doing the same to him, too absorbed in reading something on his PHS. A Tonberry model, he noted with amusement. Appropriate for a Turk. He'd have to look into getting one for himself.

"This is Gold Five calling Mama Bird. Come in Mama Bird." Cloud's voice cut through his revelry. Over the top of Tseng's seat, Rufus could see the blond speaking into his headset, telltale tightness spread up along his face. "Is the nest clean for eggs? Repeat: is the nest clean for eggs?"

Absurd code talk aside, what exactly was going on? From what Rufus could see, everything seemed innocent. The endless blue-green of the ocean had been replaced by the lacklustre sights on Junon. There was a bit of a brown haze over the city though this was nothing out of the ordinary. The airport ought to be right in front of them.

He started to unbuckle himself so he could the look out the forward window when Cloud said, "Rufus, _stay put_," in a voice that tolerated no argument. The younger man hadn't even bothered to glance in his direction.

Impressive.

The radio crackled. "_Roger that, Gold Five, this is Mama Bird. There was a bit of mess, but it has been cleaned. Repeat: the nest is clean. Confirmation code 130342. That's 130342. You are good for landing on the presidential platform. You are good for landing."_

"Roger Mama Bird. We'll commence landing immediately."

They did a pass over the airport once and Rufus thought he saw something on the landing pad, but they descended too quickly for him to identify it. So after they set down, he went to see it for himself. Sure enough there on the tarmac someone had sprayed three lines in iridescent green. The first two met each other making an approximately sixty degree angle with the third line slicing through them both. Rufus circled the graffiti until he could see it for what it was.

"An 'A'," he mused. "How kindergarten."

His companions joined him one by one. Tseng with his calculating dark gaze. The SOLDIER with his broadsword in hand. Cloud for his part showed a fair bit of restraint. Though his hand was placed near to the sheath of combat knife, deceptively relaxed. He really was learning.

There were other marks on the tarmac. Making up nine letters in total. All of them painted in that brilliant green colour. The letters were huge. It took a few minutes before they could identify what it spelled out. This was a message for the sky itself or perhaps the sky's rulers.

AVALANCHE.

* * *

"What happened?" Cloud asked.

The security chief for the airport was an older man, with thin wisps of grey hair that escaped under from under his red beret and a paunch that strained the buttons of his maroon uniform. "That's what I wanted to ask you. I heard that something happened aboard the ship the vice president was on. Something about—"

Cloud cut him off. "Livestock escaped. The vice president is fine. The ship is fine." Hopefully this would be enough information for to move on and get to the situation at hand. "Now what happened here?"

"We had one of the privates… a kid really. A really good kid and well…"

"Yes," he said pushing firmness into his voice. Cloud couldn't say he liked doing it. While wasn't his domain, he really needed the other man to get to the point. He had dealt with Baror before and while he was a good at his job, having held it since before Shinra had bought the airport, but he had a nasty tendency to ramble.

Baror shifted behind his desk. "Sorry," he apologized, apparently taking the hint. "There's no danger. Just some graffiti by one person, the boy I mentioned. We've got him in custody. Believe me, I looked into it personally. As far as I can tell, the fact that it was where the president's landing pad is a coincidence."

"Good."

Cloud opened the leftmost pouch on his belt,, withdrawing his PHS, and dialled Rufus.

Soon enough Rufus picked up. "_Cloud, is everything satisfactory or should I run away in terror?_"

"Yes, everything's fine." _Though it would be nice if you did run away once in a while. _"I should be back in about ten minutes."

"Captain Strife," Baror interjected. "Is there any chance I could have some of your time?"

Cloud was tempted to say no. He didn't like leaving Rufus during a potential situation, even he was with a Turk and a SOLDIER, plus he was already tired from his earlier fight. His head was starting to pulse in time with his muscles, but… As much as he hated politics, it would make his job easier to stay on the good side of the other security divisions.

"Rufus," he said into the speaker, "is there any chance Luxiere and the Turk would be willing to stay with you a bit longer."

There was the distant sound of the Rufus conferring with the others before answering, "The Turk is willing to stay, though the SOLDIER has to go."

He could live with that, especially if the Turk was who Cloud thought he was. "Okay, I'll see you later."

"Until then."

Cloud snapped his PHS shut and giving the security chief his full attention. With a respectful nod, Baror led him out of his office and down the hallway. "You've got to understand the prisoner… Park. He's a private assigned here. He often cleans the landing pads and runways. That's why nobody noticed him up there," Baror explained.

"Do you need my help with security here?"

"No, I can handle that. There won't be anymore graffiti found."

"But if AVALANCHE is operating in Junon…"

"AVALANCHE in Junon? Not likely. Park wouldn't be involved with that lot. He's a good kid. You know how it is these days," Baror protested hastily. "The name barely means anything anyways considering how many people use it. Idiots the lot of them. Shinra gives 'em a parking ticket and next they're writing the bloody word all on every building they see. Other places too. Alleys. Sidewalks…. Why just the other day I went into to the bathroom, and there scrawled right on the middle of the john was 'AVALANCHE'. Pissed right then and there." He laughed at his own joke.

Baror was right about few things. Rumours and graffiti aside, so far there was no sign of AVALANCHE operating anywhere other than Midgar.

"But it doesn't mean anything. It's a fad that those young people do. Not like us, right?" the chief continued.  
Cloud frowned. He was only twenty. That was young, Right?

Okay he was getting side-tracked. "So why do you need me?"

"I was hoping you'd talk to him."

"I'm not trained in interrogation," Cloud pointed out. The closest experience he had was the _many _interviews with prospective additions to Rufus' security force.

"I don't care about that," Baror said hastily.

"So why me?"

"That's not what I wanted at all. I was hoping if you talked to him, you could help get him get his head on straight."

That still didn't explain why him and not someone who knew Park better. Baror himself seemed invested in the private. Cloud could've pointed it this out but he had long since found that silence was could be just as useful and fixing the chief with a puzzled look, waited.

Sure enough after less than twenty seconds, Baror seemed to get the message and finally elaborated.

"You see Park's older brother was stationed in Wutai, one of the southern provinces. Last month one of the local rebel cells bombed the barracks. Middle of the night and everything. Poor bastard didn't stand a chance."

It was a common story, one that Cloud was all too familiar with. Gritting his teeth, he knew what was coming next.

"Well, captain, I don't want to sound presumptuous. It's just I couldn't help but hear that you're from Nibelheim and everybody knows what happened there. General Sephiroth… Fucking Wutes," he cursed viciously. "Not to forget the rest of those folks either".

It was a painfully crude appeal. Baror had been quick to mention Sephiroth, only mentioning the actual villagers as an afterthought and forgetting Zack altogether. "Yes, we definitely shouldn't forget them," Cloud responded stiffly. Most of the time, the only reason anybody thought about Nibelheim was because the Winter General had perished defending it. As if Sephiroth had been the only one of importance who'd died that day.

Once Cloud might have let anger get the best of him, instead he exhaled outward letting the prickly emotion go with it. Yes, Baror was being an idiot, but he was a well-intentioned one. He wanted to help someone.

"Okay, I'll do it," Cloud said. There was no harm in trying.

"Thank you, Captain Strife. I won't forget it. Park's a likely lad. It'd be a shame for a boy to ruin his career so early on. You'll see for yourself."

They reached the holding area soon after. Just like Baror, this was from before Shinra purchased the airport. It was tiny with only a few cells, all of which were packed, and a single interrogation room. Painfully inadequate. Hopefully this would be remedied once the military building adjoined to the Junon Cannon was finished.

Off an encouraging look from Baror, Cloud headed into the interrogation room and nearly headed right back out. They most have given him the wrong prisoner or he was in the wrong room. Sitting at the other end of the interrogation table was a figure that was much too big to be a 'kid', 'boy' or 'lad'. Even sitting down, it was clear the prisoner was easily over six and half feet with shoulder like a Titan. When Cloud had been a child he'd dreamed of having that sort of build, big and strong. It had taken nearly two years of daily measurements before he'd accepted the fact he wasn't going grow past five and half feet.

At that moment dark eyes fastened onto the captain's stripes adorning Cloud's shoulder. Suddenly the prisoner was out of his seat, his right hand flying into a salute. The only problem was that he'd forgotten that he was wearing handcuffs and ended dragging up his other hand as well, whacking his head with both hands and the heavy metal connecting them.

"You'd be Private Park?" Cloud asked.

"No, sir," the prisoner said, cradling his bruised forehead.

"But Chief Baror said – "

"Well, it _is_my name, sir. My last name. But everybody else calls me Private Arik. The chief's a bit old fashioned."

It was unusual. While there was no official rule at Shinra that said troopers couldn't be referred to by their first names, most recruits loved being called by their last names. Something about it making them seem tougher. If Cloud was honest with himself, he'd been one of them. Even his letters home to his mother had been signed with 'Strife'. Private Park's situation was almost… Private Park's…

Oh.

That would explain things.

Despite the prisoner's darkly tanned skin, Cloud could make out a faint blush crawling along his cheeks.

"Private Arik it is." And he'd thought Cloud was bad.

"Thank you, sir." The private gave him another, less disastrous, salute.

Beyond this short conversation, Cloud wasn't sure what to say. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Baror that he wasn't trained in interrogation. What he'd failed to mention was that he wasn't naturally social. The insane maze that made up social niceties was more Rufus' area of expertise, though admittedly the vice president only bothered with the 'nice' part when he felt like it.

But it didn't hurt to try.

Sighing, he took the seat across from Arik. "At ease, soldier," he said gently, removing his helmet.

The private didn't respond immediately; too busy eying his hair as Cloud's spikes, free from their confines, sprung out in every direction.

"It's natural," he explained at Arik's expression. If Cloud had had any lingering doubts that this hulking figure was a teenager, this put them to rest. Chances were Arik hadn't stopped growing yet. It really wasn't fair.

"Really?" Arik's ingrained deference to a superior officer faded slightly, the etchings of his face morphing from surprise into leery scepticism.

At least it gave him something to talk about. "Really. It isn't very common here though. You find it most in small towns on the Western Continent. Still if you go to the restaurant on Hades Street, the bartender's got it as well. His hair sticks straight up."

Zack had had gravity defying hair too. _Hey Cloud, we're hair mates… What? You don't understand what that means? Really? …okay, it's like soul mates. Only hairier. Get it?_

Cloud had gotten it from his mother. She'd been thrilled that her only child had inherited it. She'd always insisted he not cut short. _It makes you stand out. All the girls will see how handsome you are, _she'd said.

_They'll all fall in love with you. _He'd been five when he'd first been told this, and that had been all the incentive he'd needed to shave off every last hair.

Memories… Unlike the encounter with the body before, this time the memories were less intrusive ones. This was how they'd want him to remember them. Knowing Zack, if Cloud spent too much time dwelling on regrets, the perky First would end up haunting him from beyond the grave, moaning bad jokes in an attempt to get him to laugh.

The thought gave him strength and so Cloud turned his mind to the matter at hand. "So why'd you do it?" he asked, making a point to keep his tone calm and impartial.

"What? You mean you… don't think I'm a terrorist?" Arik said, nails dug deeply into the palms of his hands.

"No."

"Why not?" The private actually sounded a little insulted by this.

"Because you don't seem the type." So far the teenager seemed much too straight forward. Besides Cloud seriously doubted an AVALANCHE member would refer to himself as a terrorist. From what he'd heard the group was essentially a cult, the self-appointed saviours of the Planet. If everyone who sprayed the word AVALANCHE on something was actually a member, the military would easily be outnumbered…

Ugh. Nice thought.

"How do you know?"

"Do you think mako is made up of souls?" Cloud said. It had always amazed him there were people out who believed that insanity.

"No."

Maybe that's how he should treat this entire thing. While he had rarely interrogated anyone, he had interviewed many people for positions in Rufus' security detail – a common experience as Rufus tended to drive his bodyguards off. Treat like an interview.

"Do you think we shouldn't have mako heaters?" Cloud had had a bit of a hand with this question since Baror had given a brief account of Arik's history. The private was from Icicle Inn which was dependent on mako energy to keep from freezing in the winter.

"…no."

Cloud paused, braced himself, and said, "Is Shinra evil?"

The private's reaction was minute, his features unchanged by the question as if it had never brushed his ears. Only the faint fragrance of iron and the gleam of crimson on his bottom lip hinted otherwise.

"I know my brother wasn't. He… we weren't even supposed to be infantry. We came to Midgar to join SOLDIER, but he was too old and I failed the test. He wanted to go home. I didn't. I wanted to be important. Famous. To matter. I thought anything could happen in Midgar, magical like the City of the Ancients." Arik said eventually, the words came out slowly in a dull monotone. "But it wasn't. There were barely any jobs, especially for our age, and everything was so expensive… Before we knew it there wasn't enough money to get us home and then there wasn't enough to keep us fed. It was join the infantry or starve. There was nothing else."

There was nothing Cloud could say to this. Too many who came to join SOLDIER ended up in the infantry whether they wanted to enlist or not. It was a common theme with too many variations, harsh whispers that flooded the entire trooper corps.

"Then they tore us apart. And he…" Arik let a strangled noise.

"Why'd you spray paint the landing pad?" Cloud asked as gently as he could, even so the words seemed ungainly cruel things.

"He didn't die away. They found him far from his bunk. There were blood marks across the floor. He must have dragged himself all the way. He was looking for help – I know he was – but there wasn't any. He d died like that. No one cared." Arik's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Then when we heard the vice president was in danger… Everybody. _Everybody _cared…. I just… I COULDN'T… " The youth's expression was torn between rage and a desperate pleading. "They all were doing everything possible to help him because _he _was important. _He _mattered and Nathan… he didn't."

He stared at Cloud.

There were lots of things that could have said to the private's words. About how it wasn't Shinra's fault that Arik and his brother hadn't saved enough money. How there were plenty of people who were happy in the trooper corps, himself included. How if Shinra's vice president had died, it would've hurt everyone. But to even think of saying anything of those things out loud, Cloud would've had to been callous enough to make Rufus look like the very definition of compassion.

Instead he said, "I lost family to Wutai too. It wasn't my fault either. It wasn't anybody's. And they matter. He did too." Even this seemed like a paltry offering. "If you want, maybe in the future we could talk." He got up and gave the youth a soft touch on the shoulder. Then he left.

Security Chief Baror was waiting outside. Cloud doubted he'd moved a muscle.

"How'd it go?" Baror said, a touch of anxiousness poking through his professional visage.

"Well, I don't think he's an AVALANCHE member if that means anything and I not sure I helped. Maybe it'd be better if he could go home for a while." This wasn't the sort of thing he was good at. As far as he knew he might have made things worse. "I still don't know why you wanted me to talk to him."

"You both lost people to the Wutains."

"So have many others," Cloud pointed out. Almost everyone in the military. Arik probably had friends who had gone through similar experiences.

"Yes, but most of them don't have the vice president's ear," Baror answered. "I was hoping that…"You saw Park. He's a good kid – a little messed up that's all. I was hoping you might tell that to young Mr. Shinra. Park's no terrorist. He's no one important."

_Yes, he is, _Cloud thought.

"So can you talk to him?" Baror trailed off. His forehead creased, the deep wrinkles making him seem all the older.

"I can try."

"Just please try to talk to him. Do it before Administrative Research talks to Park."

* * *

Rufus might have stretched the truth a touch when he'd told Cloud that the SOLDIER – Luxiere was it? – had had to go. In reality, the Second had merely requested to use the bathroom and Rufus had used Cloud's assent to excuse him altogether. While he imagined his bodyguard might have objected to his ever so precise use of language, it nonetheless left Rufus in good company.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Tseng."

Despite his greeting, Rufus was utterly nonplussed when the Turk utterly ignored him and instead locked the door and proceeded to make a sweep of the apartment, checking for intruders or sabotage. For his own part, Rufus walked over to where Dark Nation napped on his cat bed. Leaning down, Rufus fondly scratch it behind the ears. Even in its sleep, the huge cat sensed him, pressing its head against its master's fingers and letting out a sound that sounded more like thunder than purring.

It only it was as easy to figure out humans, Rufus mused as he petted the cat and watched Tseng's movements as he checked one room after another. But then again it at least kept things interesting.

After a good twenty minutes, the Turk seemed satisfied. "The apartment appears clear, sir," he said before stationing himself beside the door.

This last action elicited annoyance in Rufus. "Tseng, it's hardly necessary for you to stand there. You're perfectly capable of watching the door from over here."

"True."

"Must I make that an order?"

"Must you, sir?" He really was in an ornery mood today.

"Please Tseng, I would appreciate your company."  
Mercifully this was all it took to get the Turk to join him. "I noticed you're favouring your left arm. I trust you're recovering." Tseng had never liked depending on materia or potions, preferring to let things heal naturally. He'd always thought it was important to learn how to work through the pain.

"I am, sir," Tseng replied. It was an empty statement, lacking any real flavour, giving not even a minute taste of the history behind it. It was pointless to inquire though; like most things with the Turk, the statement had no doubt been purposely hollow, leaving Rufus to guess. Since being promoted to Director of Administrative Research, Tseng no longer went on the more dangerous missions. Maybe there'd been an assassination attempt or a mishap during a training session?

Rufus found himself wondering how they compared now. Personally he'd made a point to keep up his own physical training. A task made difficult by the lack of appropriate instructors. That being said, with his new duties perhaps Tseng had less time to maintain his own physical skills.

Rufus had been eighteen when he'd last seen Tseng and in the intervening years had made the Turk smaller somehow. It hardly mattered. Tseng had taught him much of what he knew. Even if Rufus was capable of beating him in a spar, no doubt the Turk had 'forgotten' to teach Rufus all his tricks, keeping a few up his sleeve. The only way to find out how they really compared was to push him into a real fight, a situation that was intolerable.

"You are welcome to visit my personal doctor if necessary," Rufus offered.

"Thank you, sir."

It seemed it fell on Rufus to make any sort of civilized conversation. "I trust the rest of your department is doing well," he said.

"At the moment." An all true proclamation. The Turks had the highest casualty outside of troopers on front lines. In his late thirties, Tseng was considered old.

"Any luck finding new recruits?" Tseng didn't even bother answering that one. No doubt since his little rebellion, that area of information was sealed to him. So he tried another more _distasteful _avenue. "Any news of my father?"

Finally he got a proper answer. "The President is well. His last physical gave him an excellent bill of health. He's currently in the process increasing his fishery holdings. He was hoping to speak to you about it."

"You heard this from him personally?"

His father wanted to talk to him? Now that was an interesting development. They'd been on lukewarm terms the last while. When it came to the company, Rufus had been stuck doing remedial work, vice president in name only. As far as he could tell, the only reason he kept the title was his father didn't want to admit he couldn't control his own son.

"Yes, sir. Just yesterday," Tseng said.

This made things even more interesting. His father rarely dealt with the leader of the Turks in person. Officially as head of the military, Heidegger was also in charge of the Turks. With more everyday matters the President used him as an intermediary but for more subtle matters… It might mean nothing, jumping to conclusions could be just as deceptive as propaganda.

"Anything else you think I should know?"

"Nothing else, sir."

Tseng's persistent use of 'sir' bothered him. It was one thing when Cloud slipped up and called him that. At more formal occasions, the trooper felt uncomfortable using familiar terms for his employer. It was understandable. This, on the other hand, was entirely different. Just like the earlier statement, this was purposeful. An impenetrable wall of propriety.

"Really, Tseng, you've known me since I was five. You were my bodyguard for fourteen years. You don't need to address me with such proper terms."

"I disagree, sir."

"And I believe that is entirely childish of you," Rufus stated, resisting the urge the grit his teeth.  
The Wutain looked at him, those dark eyes of his seemingly looking straight through him. "It's interesting to hear that from you. Your behaviour of late has been hardly spoken well of you."

"If you're speaking of the incident a few years ago. That was – "

Tseng interrupted him. "I'm speaking of today. The incident in the helicopter for example. Taking yourself out of your harness could've been disastrous."

Rufus scoffed. "Unlikely."

"You were well aware that something was going on. If the helicopter had been damaged, you could have been harmed – "

"I don't see why – "

" – or your flailing limbs could've distracted the pilots and caused us to crash."

"All of which was highly unlikely."

"Then there is the incident on the freighter. As I understand you left the safety of the bridge despite multiple warnings from security personnel to confront the Epiolni yourself."

Rufus dismissed this out of hand. "I hardly see what that has to do with anything. I'm trained in combat. It was my chose to put myself in danger."

"And what of Lieutenant Luxiere and Captain Strife?"

"What of them?" Rufus demanded.

"What about the danger you exposed them to?"

"They're perfectly fine."

"It could've gone otherwise. By leaving your safe zone, you forced them to rush to your side, exposing them to attack rather than allowing them to slowly, carefully bring the situation under control. You put their lives in danger."

Perhaps the most frustrating part of Tseng lambasting him was that the Turk's voice never rose. He spoke in a smooth, reasonable tone as if he were talking about the most obvious thing on the Planet. This was a way of speaking which Rufus had learned to emulate but never master. It made him _feel _childish.

"Nothing happened," Rufus pointed out.

"But it could've. Either you did not think of it," Tseng said. "Or you did not care."

Dark Nation continued to sleep.

* * *

Soon after Cloud reached Rufus' apartment, the Turk left, giving the trooper a respectful nod on his way out.

"I've told the nightshift that you're here, so I'll see you tomorrow," Cloud said to Rufus.

He was about to follow the Turk out the when Rufus said to him, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to stay for dinner."

"Rufus, I'm exhausted. I just want to go to bed." In his mind's eye, his cramped room in the barracks seemed have turned into a serene paradise, the pillows made of the softest Chocobo down.

"I would appreciate the company. You are welcome to spend the night in the guest room," Rufus said.

It was the way Rufus said this, opposed to the actual words, which roused Cloud from his growing drowsiness. It lacked the vice president's normal arrogance. His speech generally had an assumption threaded in it, a belief that everyone would do whatever he said. But this time, it seemed like a genuine request.

"Okay," Cloud said. "I'll stay."

Thankfully Rufus sensed that Cloud needed some time to recuperate, not talking anymore, and so Cloud headed towards the sofa, planning to toss aside all dignity and collapse on it. Unfortunately fate had other ideas in mind. At that moment, Dark Nation woke and as if the damn cat could read his mind, it gracefully loped across the room throwing itself onto the sofa.

"Just push him off," Rufus suggested, idly looking up from a book.

It was easy enough for Rufus to say. He'd trained the cat. Cloud watched as Dark Nation glowered up at him, the tentacle on its head lashing back and forth angrily. Dark Nation used _concrete_ scratching posts.  
So instead of pressing the issue, he looked for another place to rest. There were chairs and a loveseat, but there was nothing big enough for him to properly lie down on except for… Oh, what the heck. He'd already been prepared to lose some dignity. Rest was worth losing even more.

Cloud ended up getting a nap on Dark Nation's cat bed.

The scent of dinner woke Cloud. It was if he had SOLDIER senses because could've sworn he smelled all the way down the hall. Before he knew it, he was up and opening the door, startling the busboy delivering the food. Then having apologized to the aforemention busboy, eagerly brought a tray of food to the table.

Naturally Dark Nation spotted the tray right away and prompt;y began rubbing against his legs. Cloud was fairly sure the cat was attempting to trip him and relented slightly, giving it a bit of the food, and was heartened when Dark Nation tasted the food, spat it out, hissed at it, and then, with its nose in the air, strode away from the piece of tofu.

"You really shouldn't feed him extra food. It isn't good for him," Rufus said evenly.

"Sorry." He couldn't bring himself to mean it.

"It's not necessary."

The food was good. Cloud was used to vegetarian meals - meat was expensive in small towns – though he'd never had one this exotic. It was subtly spiced, making you slowly devour each mouthful so you could catalogue all the flavours. The vegetables were cooked carefully so not to lose their colours. Pristine yellow corn, vivid orange carrots, stunning purple eggplants and deep red tomatoes adorned the plate, and nestled among them was pieces tofu roasted a gently brown.

"How'd it go with Tseng?" Cloud asked.

"Fine. Why do you ask?" Rufus answered as he sliced a piece tomato, its crimson insides spilling over his plate.

"He was your previous bodyguard, right?"

Rufus didn't glance up, focusing entirely on his plate. "Yes. An astute observation on your part."

"Wasn't this for him?" While they had shared a number of meals, this was quite different from what Rufus normally ordered.

"Yes, but I'm afraid Director Tseng declined my invitation.

"Did you apologize to him?" Knowing Rufus he had probably done _something._

This got Rufus attention. The older blond gave him the look that he reserved for a special kind of idiot.

"Whatever would I apologize for?"

Normally Cloud wouldn't have considered saying these things. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking. Or maybe that conversation with that private? He'd tried to talk to Arik, hoping to help him. Cloud wondered if he was turning into a less sensible version of Zack. Whatever insanity had prompted him to talk that way to the vice president? "Never mind."

Rufus raised an eyebrow at him. "I do believe my bodyguard wants to be my psychiatrist as well." He laughed. Then seemingly content with Cloud's embarrassment, Rufus added in a gentler tone. "It's been an interesting day."

Cloud could agree with that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Thicker Than Blood  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters:** Cloud, Rufus  
**Summary:** Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim. AU  
**Author's Note:**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

It was early when Cloud stirred, the traitorous sunlight having slipped between the slits of the wooden blinds to tease his face. From between twin slits, beady blue orbs scrutinized the bedside clock before audibly snapping shut. He might be a morning person but this was…

Much.

Too.

Early.

"Ugh," he moaned. It felt as he had been trampled by a herd of wild Chocobos.. He flopped around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position which would allow him to dive back into sleep. To his growing frustration, it quickly proved difficult. He tried lying on his side, then his back. He curled up then stretched out. Whatever his pose he tried, the aches followed, nipped at his heels. Finally he turned onto his front, burrowing his face into the pillows and dragging the duvet cover over his head. If he couldn't get comfortable, at least he could blot out some of the Planet-cursed light.

To his dismay, this proved equally fruitless as the motions made him increasingly aware of his surroundings. The pillows proved much softer than the twin rocks that he was used to resting his head on and the duvet was not the scratchy blankets of his bunk. He most certainly wasn't in his normal hole in the ground. With that thought, the insanity of the previous day came flooding back. It hadn't been his worst day on the job or even the fifth. There had been too many attempts on Rufus' life – purposeful, intelligent threats with which Cloud had had to deal – which made talking to a vandal and dealing with a freak livestock accident look nowhere near as ominous. Still if it wasn't for the troublesome possibility of dying, Cloud would've preferred another assassination attempt.

"Ugh," he said once again, more to make himself feel better than anything else, and slowly, reluctantly he shoved himself up into the waking world.

The previous day must have left him exhausted because his memories of actually getting into bed were like watching a television with a twisted antenna; still, a quick assessment of things revealed that even half-awake he'd managed to neatly set out his uniform, polish his boots, and - as was confirmed by a quick sniff – had even washed the sweat out of his helmet. Further more, it looked like he'd taken the time to clean his rifle and knife. If his old drill sergeant had seen this, he might have approved. He left the armoured parts of his uniform where they lay, resolving to come back for them once his shift began, dressing only in his cargo pants, boots and tank top.

After a moment's consideration he added his combat knife to the outfit, adjusting the sheath's belt, so it was hidden beneath his shirt. The knife pressed against the small of his back. Having a gun with him while off-duty had always seemed extreme; it had taken a fair bit of arguing on his part to convince Rufus that that it was overkill. In truth he hadn't so much won that battle so much as Rufus had tired of the conversation, leaving Cloud with the distinct feeling that he had been granted a short recess before the argument would start anew.

The vice president _had_ been quick to point out that Cloud's primary complaint with Rufus was his lack of precautions. But Rufus was definitely not hired to protect him. It was doubtful anyone was out to get him personally and if they were, Cloud was hardly a lynchpin of the company. If someone killed him, it wouldn't hurt anyone… Other than Cloud, that is.

The knife was feeling frailer every second.

While he had another three hours until he was on duty, Cloud checked on Rufus. Experience had taught him that a bit of caution could come in handy. The vice president turned out to be still secluded in his room and after opening the bedroom door enough to look inside, fast asleep in the middle of his king-sized bed. It didn't take Cloud long to notice that Rufus_'_ room featured full-length blackout curtains, leaving his room in complete darkness so _he _could sleep in.

Lack of sleep aside, the sight of Rufus Shinra slumbering was as bizarre as it was utterly normal. Awake, Rufus was the picture of control. Asleep he could've been anyone. Rufus lay there, his hands wrapped tightly in his sheets while his brow furrowed. He even snored. The only thing that would've made him seem more like a normal person was if Rufus had a trickle of drool coming out the side of his mouth. Cloud was tempted to whip out his PHS and snap a photo for blackmail purposes.

As if sensing the threat to its master, two glowing yellow slashes appeared in the darkness beneath the bed, as Dark Nation glowered at him.

Cloud left the apartment immediately.

Rufus' place was one of two large apartments gracing the top of one of Junon's smaller skyscrapers. The other apartment of course belonged to Rufus' father, the President. Whereas Rufus' home was only one story high, his father's was a three with large balconies on each one. The architecture had a certain majestic grace to it, with carvings into the surrounding each massive window. Next to his father's building, Rufus' looked like a glorified garage.

Cloud stretched, pulling his arms and legs in various directions, enjoying the minute crackle and pop sounds his body made, then started to move. He started slowly, jogging down on the stairs leading down the stairs from the penthouses to the ground, His body protested at first, groaning silently, as he forced aching limbs to move. Eventually the knots in his muscles eased and once Cloud's feet hit the street, he sped up.

Quickly his early irritation faded away as he took in the sights. Upper Junon seemed to have transformed into a different place. The normally crowded shops were a closed, their shutters shut tightly. The only sign of activity was the occasional trooper patrolling the roads, but it was a normal enough sight. The usual cacophony and bustle of the city was now serene. He able to run with the ocean on one side and the buildings, painted vivid oranges and reds by the rising sun on the other, and the nothing on the street to stop him.

When he finally reached his destination, he couldn't help but look back at the road. This sort of simplicity was a rarity in the city. As a youth he'd found it unbearably dull. Now it felt freeing, being lose himself in the sounds of the clanking of his dog tags against his chest and the pounding of his feet on the pavement. As he reached Hades' Street, he let out a sigh of regret before entering Nibel's Dreams.

The pub wasn't particularly remarkable. It featured the typical dark wood walls with large ceiling fans overhead and number of ashtrays dotting the countertops. The only distinguishing feature were the photos of the Nibelheim mountain range adorning the walls.

The bartender hadn't noticed Cloud entering, too engrossed with the television hung from the wall. "Damn it Paula, he doesn't really love you. He's just using you to get to your sister!" he groaned.

"Hey Johnny," Cloud said, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

The bartender whirled around like a top. "Cloud, what are you doing here?" he asked, then frantically grabbed the remote controller and flicked the television off. It was pointless though, Cloud had long since figured out Johnny's viewing habits.

"I heard you serve breakfast now."

"Since when?" Johnny griped.

"It says so outside."

"Yes, but I never thought anyone would actually show up!" Johnny protested vehemently. As far as Cloud could tell, Johnny had only started the early breakfast thing so he could watch his soap operas without his girlfriend finding out.

"Then why post it?" Come to think the announcement on the door was rather hard to find. It had been half covered by flyers. He'd barely noticed the tiny print announcing that the bar was now serving an early bird breakfast.

"Well, I… uh," Johnny spluttered. "Look do you want breakfast or not?" Cloud hadn't been lying to the private on the previous day. The bartender did have bright red hair that stood straight up, and at the moment Johnny looked as stiff as his hair. Other than Cloud, Johnny and his parents were the only people from Nibelheim that hadn't been present when Wutai had attacked.

"Since when do you serve breakfast?" Cloud asked innocently. Perhaps he'd been hanging around Rufus too long.

"Since now," Johnny said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I probably have _something_ that will do." Johnny made a point of quickly turning off the television before Cloud could see what was on, and then stomped off into the back.

A little while later, Cloud was served a glass of milk, an orange, eggs and toast. "Your cook's not in the kitchen, is she?"

"Nope," Johnny answered, clearly enjoying Cloud's reaction. "She hates waking up early. Only works the later shifts."

"I can tell." The eggs were slimy, the toast was scorched, and the milk smelled. Mercifully the orange looked safe and he removed it from his plate, putting it a good distance from its more dubious companions

Johnny was apparently satisfied with his little revenge for his crashed morning, removing a beer from the fridge then passing it to Cloud. It was too early for beer and he would have passed, but when Johnny grabbed another for himself, he accepted the show of companionship. At least it looked more palatable than the milk.

"I'm surprised you're here, considering yesterday," Johnny said, cracking open his drink.

"You heard?"

"Of course I did. Junon hasn't been anything this interesting happen since the war, plus you hear things when you work in a bar. But yesterday? I would've had to be deaf not to hear about it. Everybody was talking about it. I figured you'd be exhausted. Not up and about at this crazy hour." Cloud had been exhausted. Probably lurking behind the adrenaline from the run, he still was.

"I woke up early."

"Did you try to go back to sleep?"

Cloud was tempted to ignore the question. To toss it aside. After all, he hadn't wanted to wake up, the room had been just too bright. On reflection though, he'd stayed there before, about a couple dozen times and light or no light, he generally slept better there, away from the constant noise of the barracks. This time, he'd needed to get up to move.

"Johnny?"

"Hmm?"

"Do ever think you think you see them?" he asked.

"You mean _them _them?" Johnny took a long swig of his beer and frowned. "Sort of. Once and a while I think I hear them., especially when there's a lot of people talking. Their voices all blend together and suddenly I think I hear one of my sisters or one of their kids. Sometimes Tifa too."

Johnny had had a bit of a crush on her. It was another thing that tied them together. As kids they'd played together, but never been especially close. While Johnny had never been one of the children who'd bullied Cloud, he'd never stood up for him either. Nevertheless after the Wutains had destroyed Nibelheim, Johnny had hunted him, eventually deciding to stay. It had been hard to resent him after that. They were the last two of their generation.

There wouldn't be another.

"So what's got you gander?" Johnny asked.

"Just yesterday after we got the livestock under control, we found a stowaway. The livestock had killed him…. He looked like someone from home."

Johnny rolled his eyes. It wasn't that the other man hadn't cared about their hometown. During those first few month after they'd gotten the news, Johnny's temper had been like a string pulled too tight, snapping at the smallest thing. But after about a year of this, his anger had been drained away leaving a practical – if acerbic – acceptance in its wake. "That old hat? Come on, we've been over this before: you couldn't have done anything," he grumbled.

"That's what Rufus said," Cloud said.

"Well, he's right," Johnny winced, and then added, "I can't believe I said that."

"I know he is. Really." And that was the frustrating thing, he _did _know it. He'd visited Nibelheim after the attack, seen the ruins. There was no way a single trooper could've prevented that. So why didn't his subconscious keep on pushing that face into his mind? "I don't get it either."

The bartender snorted. "It's probably because the anniversary is coming up. They're making a big deal about it being the fifth one," he said. "It's still months away and I've already had six people ask me about renting the place to celebrate the 'heroic' death of Sephiroth. There's been a bunch of others who use the bar's name as an excuse to lecture me about his exploits. I swear one of these days I'll just burn the place down to save me the headache."

"You could change the name," Cloud suggested.

"I'll stick with the headaches."

At that moment, the bell above the door jangled. The new arrival was a medium-sized man, clean-shaven and wearing a white shirt and dress pants with neatly pressed creases down the middle of the legs.

"Hello, sir," he said to Johnny. "The sign outside says you serve breakfast."

"So people keep on telling me," Johnny replied.

"You really ought to make the sign more obvious. I barely noticed it, all covered in flyers. The print's small too. Good thing I have good eyesight."

"Yeah, great."

Cloud speared a piece of egg with his fork, only for it to collapse into yellow sludge. "Hope you like oranges," he muttered under his breath.

"As a matter of fact I like all citrus fruits," the stranger stated amicably and took the opportunity to take a bar stool near Cloud.

It was this utterly awkward sounding statement which made Cloud do a double take. "Luxiere?"

"Nice to see you again, Captain Strife," he said, acknowledging him by bowing. Once his head dipped far enough down, a small shadow covered his visage, making those ethereal eyes evident. The plain clothes had been enough to throw Cloud. In his entire time of knowing Zack, he'd never actually seen the him in anything other than his uniform. Come to think of it, he didn't think he'd ever seen a SOLDIER in normal clothing.

Johnny eventually voiced the thought. "I thought SOLDIERs never deemed to wear the garment of mere mortals."

Luxiere seemed utterly unaware of the sarcasm. "It's true," Luxiere admitted. "We get so thrilled by getting into the program that… Well, we can be a bit prone to showing off. It's a bit of a bad habit honestly for some of us. Wearing the BDUs all the time makes it hard to mix properly with civilians."

"I would've thought those baby blues of yours would make it hard all by themselves," Johnny said.

"I guess so, but it's important to make the effort. If we're never seen in normal clothes, we'll never be seen as normal people."

Cloud and Johnny stared at him. Luxiere spoke as if he was a beauty pageant contestant trying to win over the judges. It was very hard to take him seriously. Even Zack in his more earnest moments hadn't descended into this kind of corniness.

Eventually Johnny cracked a smile. "Huh, hopefully the normal people appreciate it."  
With that, he headed back into the kitchen, leaving Cloud alone with Luxiere.

"I hope this doesn't sound too forward, but were you did you ever go on a mission to Modeoheim?" the Second asked. "One with a SOLDIER escort?"

"Yes," Cloud answered.

As soon as he said this, Luxiere's entire disposition changed. The stiffness in shoulders melted away, leaving an eagerness in its wake. "I thought so… I mean it's not a very common name, but I just didn't want to assume," the Second babbled. "You're _that_ Cloud Strife."

"Yes." What else could he say? It was his name after all.

"Zack's Cloud."

He leaned towards the other man, curiosity budding in his breast. "You knew Zack?"

"Of course, everybody knows… Well, there was a time where everybody in SOLDIER knew Zack. The new kids haven't been so lucky and as for the rest…" Luxiere ground his teeth. "…a lot of good people have left us these last few years."

Another nasty reminder that he wasn't the only one who'd lost people. He still had to talk to Rufus about Private Arik. There wasn't much Cloud could say to that other than "Sorry." The word seemed to get more hollow every time it was used.

"They died for what they believed it," Luxiere replied without drama or flourish as if stating an uncomplicated truth.

Cloud had heard worse epitaphs.

"So Zack mentioned me?" Cloud asked, trying to steer the conversation in a less morbid direction.

"Yeah, a bunch of times. He used to hang out a lot with Kunsel and me. He said you were a plucky little kid. That you should have been one of us."

Cloud wasn't sure if he liked to being referred to as a 'plucky little kid'. Especially the 'little' part, though it had been true. Unfortunately it still was.

The next part had been more satisfying. Yes, Zack had always insisted Cloud would have made a good SOLDIER, but there had always been a bit of him which had wondered if his friend had just being nice. And yes, while it hadn't been like Zack to lie even to be nice. Still it was satisfying to know he'd said the same in private.

Then there was that name. "Kunsel," Cloud said, rolling the name over in his head. "I think Zack mentioned him a few times. He said something about him being a bit of a gossip."

Luxiere merriment cooled, the corners of his eyes tightening. "We all used to hang out together," he said quietly. "but when Zack died… Kunsel didn't take it particularly well. He started getting all into the most insane conspiracy theories that you've ever heard. A lot of them about the company. Used to tell them to anybody who would listen."

Cloud couldn't see that going over well with the company. "What happened to him?"  
"Don't know. By that point we weren't on so good terms. I didn't believe his stories. I mean he'd become utterly paranoid. Wanted him to get help, so instead he just stopped talking to me. Last time I saw him, Heidegger wanted to talk to him. After that, he was gone," he said. "I guess the company got sick of the rumours and fired him." He rubbed his arms as if brushing off some invisible dirt.

Johnny returned shortly after that. Apparently his cooking skills had improved. The toast had a speck or two of brown along its blackened surfaces and the eggs consistency was more like rubber than mud. Nothing could've improved the milk though, which kept a sour musk hovering in its vicinity. Nevertheless after examining the food then dug in with apparent gusto.

Cloud watched with abject horror as the SOLDIER inhaled the food, then, upon Luxiere's inquiring look, offered his own plate. "You… like it?" he asked cautiously.

"Why wouldn't he?" Johnny protested. A remarkable turnaround considering less than ten minutes ago, he'd seemed all too aware of the quality of his cooking.

Apparently even the SOLDIER wouldn't brave the milk – Cloud wasn't sure if he could handle that sight – sniffing it once before politely handing the glass back to Johnny. "I appreciate the effort that went into it. I sure Mr…" he said.

"Name's Johnny."

"I appreciate the effort that Mr. Johnny put into making it. As for the rest, it's food, right? It'd be criminal to waste it."

"See," Johnny said to Cloud. "He likes it."

Cloud thought it best not to point out that that hadn't been what the SOLDIER had actually said. With any luck, the situation would eventually resolve itself. After all it was only a matter of time before the bartender attempted to cook for himself and experience could be a powerful teacher.

"So why are down here anyway? I mean Cloud I get. He's an old friend. I thought they had some fancy twenty-four hour cafeteria for the troops," Johnny commented. Apparently Luxiere's appreciation of his cooking skills had elevated him in Johnny's eyes, and the barkeeper had become more amiable.

Luxiere looked uncomfortable at the question, his shaggy eyebrows furrowing. "SOLDIERs tend to not to sleep too much. I was hungry and the private SOLDIER cafeteria hasn't been finished yet. This was the only place open."

"And that means?"

"We have to use the troopers' one. That can be kind of awkward." He looked over at Cloud an unspoken plea on his lips.

Cloud obliged him. "Troopers and SOLDIERs tend not to get along," he explained.

"Huh, I figured you guys we all buddies or something," Johnny said. "I never imagined."

"It's complicated." The whole relationship between the two main divisions of the army was a messy one. Too many had dreamed of being part of SOLDIER, only to end up in the infantry instead.

Not for the first time Cloud wondered what would have happened to him if he hadn't met Zack. Hadn't seen a SOLDIER as a person and not just some unobtainable ideal. Or if Rufus hadn't given him other goals. Would his dreams of becoming a SOLDIER twisted inward, turning into from hope to resentment to hate? It had happened to so many others.

Arik. He still had to talk to Rufus about Arik.

"Hey, do mind if you turn on the television?" Luxiere asked. "I was hoping to catch the early news."

"Sorry, I lost the remote control and well, you can see," Johnny said, indicating the television which was high on the wall.

Cloud was about to point out that they could just use a chair when Luxiere rose from his seat. The Second strode towards the TV, and then effortlessly jumped straight up five feet, touched the power button and landed easily.

"Wait! Don't!" Johnny spluttered.

The television spluttered to life. It was old one, the sound from its speakers cracked and distorted. Even so it was easy to hear an announcer said "_Next time on _All Gaia's Children_. Paula's relationship with Antonio is strained when her twin sister kidnaps her and poses as her on her wedding day. Will Antonio see through his fiendish foe? Will Paula escape her captors or fall in love with them? Will true love conquer all? Next time on _All Gaia's Children_."_

Johnny's only response was a blush creeping across his cheeks.

It was the other redhead rescued him. "_All Gaia's Children_ is still playing? "

"You've heard of it?"

"Yeah, my wife and I used to watch it every evening. I thought they'd cancelled it."

"They play reruns early in the morning, though there is some talk about it coming out in video."

Cloud ate his orange in silence as he listened to the two redheads babble back and forth about the various characters and relationships of their beloved television show. There was something deeply disturbing about anyone, man or woman, putting this much thought into a fictional universe, so much so that he nearly missed the new broadcast.

"_Yesterday afternoon all of the free world was terrified when young Rufus Shinra, vice president of Shinra Incorporated and only son of…"_

Hopefully this wouldn't make Rufus too insufferable today.

"_…attacked and nearly killed by implacable monsters…_"  
Now that was a bit of an exaggeration.

"…then when Antonio first looked at Perdita, I thought he would…"

"_…duty-bound to protect him, his bodyguard threw himself into…_"

Over dramatic.

"…still, I always though she'd get together with…"

"_…example of heroism in his…_

Wait! What the – 

* * *

"Did you do this?"

During his lifetime, Rufus had been woken up for various reasons. Some necessary. Others entirely frivolous. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but he wasn't sure if being woken up at six in the morning with his cat yowling and a newspaper shoved into his face by his irate bodyguard counted as the former or the latter.

"I beg your pardon?"

The younger blond shook his newspaper. 'LAST SURVIVOR OF NIBELHEIM SAVES VICE PRESIDENT' it read.

"Hmm… Correct me if I'm wrong, but you weren't in Nibelheim during the attack," Rufus mused. "I fail to see how that qualifies you as a survivor. And that friend of yours and his parents are still alive, right? So you don't qualify in the last citizen sense either." He made a tsking noise. "Someone really must write the editor."

"You're dodging the question," Cloud growled.

Junon had little in the way of proper DNA labs. The few it did have were strictly watched and under Shinra control. It made verifying whether or not he and Cloud were actually related difficult. The only way to test it one way or another would to risk exposing the potential connection to the Turks. Rufus had no doubt that if he and Cloud were proved to be half-brothers, his father would inevitably become involved. A reality Rufus would not allow.

Looking at Cloud like this with his blue eyes flashing, Rufus could almost believe a DNA test wasn't necessary. Here Cloud was – a youth from the middle of nowhere, born without money or status – attempting to stare him down. Him, Rufus Shinra. On paper the concept would have seen utterly absurd but it was happening. It was impressive.

The sheer determination required spoke of some kind of inborn greatness. Of course Rufus wouldn't have stopped at a few grumbles and a threatening disposition to get any answers he wanted. Though he supposed he could hardly fault the other blond. Nurture might have something to do with it.

"Did. You. Do. This?" Cloud repeated.

"What exactly? Do you mean I ordered the story to be published? Or do you mean I simply gave an interview?"

"Either."

"The answer to those questions and ones related to them is simple: I did absolutely nothing," he answered truthfully.

Cloud pursued further. "And you didn't know about this story at all?"

"No. Contrary to popular belief I do not control the media." That particular avenue was no longer open to him. Now it sat entirely in his father's meaty hands.

Still, the younger man did not let up. "You're not surprised."

"No, I am not. It was only a matter of time before you entered the public eye," he calmly stated. "What did you expect? You're the bodyguard to the vice president."

This snapped the youth out of his ire. It was like a switch had been flicked. Within a millisecond he was blinking self-consciously. "Uh, sorry."

Rufus straightened, reaching for the black robe on his coat rack, wrapping it around his body so he might talk to Cloud with a little more dignity. "Yes, next time wait until I'm fully awake before you harass me."

"No, not that."

"Harassing me while I'm fully asleep would be even less effective, Captain Strife."

"I meant I shouldn't have assumed you were involved."

"It was a natural mistake. Many politicians use their entourage to draw media attention to them. Considering my position, your suspicions were perfectly logical. In fact I was impressed by how your questions had tackled any areas where I might have lied by omission."

Cloud stood there, his fists bunched at his sides. "That's not an excuse. You're not that bad."

There were times where Cloud's spikes made his face seem especially young. They seemed to round it out, softening it. This was one of those times. Rufus found he couldn't think of a proper response to Cloud's declaration. His suspicions had been valid though misguided. There was no reason to apologize.

Finally, Rufus said, "You're getting blood on the rug."

It was then that Cloud first became aware of the wound on his arm. The injury was causing blood to trickle down onto the floor. "Sorry."

"Then I would recommend getting _off_ it," Rufus suggested amicably.

Cloud shuffled out of the room.

"Dark Nation, _no,_" Rufus ordered – the curious feline had begun to lick at the blood stains – then followed his bodyguard.

"That cat hates me," Cloud griped as he allowed Rufus to examine his arm.

Using some iodine and a cotton ball from the first aid kit, Rufus cleaned the wound. "Nonsense. He's just curious about you. Believe me, you would be aware if Dark Nation hated you. It likely be the last thing you'd be aware of, but you'd definitely know," he said. "As for myself, I am curious as to why you didn't just use a potion on this yesterday."

"It was just a shallow gash. It had already started scabbing over on its own. It must have broken open when I jogged back here."

"It would have scarred."

Cloud shrugged unconcernedly. "Zack always said that scars tell a stories."

"With all due respect to your deceased friend, I find it more likely he thought they would impress girls."

"He already had a girlfriend," Cloud said as if that actually meant anything. That hardly stopped other men.

The fairer gender included, Rufus failed to see why anyone in their right mind would wish to have every injury in their life displayed where just anyone could see it. It seemed careless. He also could've pointed out that having a partner did not preclude a man having numerous affairs on the side, but decided that the statement wouldn't have been taken well.

"While Lieutenant Fair's policy may have its points, I have never known you to follow that particular one," Rufus said, prodding for more information.

"The hospital only gives out free potions to people with severe injuries. I'm trying to save money."

"For what, may I ask?"

"It's private."

It was a unexpected answer. Hiding things was not Cloud's style. He was more shy than secretive and was tempting to try and pry open the door that blocked his way. There were ways it could be done. Perhaps suggest that Cloud should pay reparations for his earlier comments or that keeping secrets from his employer was not a good policy.

Rufus did neither. Anyways constant pressure could only distance Cloud from him.

"I've got an extra pack of potions you are welcome to have. It's ridiculous that you should suffer because of your privacy." Because Cloud had been trying to protect him. "As for your clothes, I suppose you don't have time to get a fresh change of clothes…"

A few minutes later, Cloud was dressed in some of Rufus clothes. The top was normal tank top. The pants on the other hand were not actually pants but capris – a fact that Cloud had not been happy about. Unfortunately Rufus was almost half a foot taller than him and with his only other option was to spend the rest of the day tripping over his own feet, he'd been forced to reluctantly concede.

Both of the items were completely black and Cloud hesitated before asking, "Rufus, do you have any other colours?"

"I have white clothes if you prefer."

"Any others?"

"Like your normal purple I assume? No. None at all." The purple was a questionable fashion choice anyways. Cloud ought to be thankful.

"Great."

"I'm surprised by you, Cloud. The clothes. The news. I would've thought you'd enjoy standing out. I thought everyone who tried to join SOLDIER wanted glory."

"Not like this. These clothes aren't army. And the news… It made it seem like I rescued you single handily. I didn't do that much. Luxiere did most of the work and the article barely mentions him."

"You did your job. That's enough." As for the 'rescue' part that much Rufus could agree was complete tripe.

"By the way, how's your arm?" Cloud asked.

"Pardon me?"

"Your right arm. I saw you shooting the monsters yesterday with only one-hand."

Rufus smirked. So he had noticed, had he? "I'm perfectly fine."

"That's impossible with a shotgun. You should have severe bruising at least."

The executive used his right arm to flick his bangs out of his face, demonstrating its substantial mobility. "Not with a very special shotgun," he answered. "You're welcome to see it for yourself."

Cloud raised an eyebrow at him before going in the direction of Rufus' gun safe. Other than Rufus himself, Cloud was the only other person who had the combination. It had been a reluctant concession on Rufus' part, the Shinra heir hadn't liked anyone else being able to touch his weapons, but Cloud had insisted. Watching Cloud open the safe now was less grating then it had been the first time. On reflection the youth was right, in an emergency that every one weapon had to be accounted for. Cloud removed the sawed-off shotgun carefully, making sure the safety was on then thoroughly checking it for ammunition.

"I've never seen this model," Cloud observed, rotating it so he could take in every facet.

"It's completely custom-made. A rare collaborative effort of both Scarlet and Reeve."

"The stock's bigger than normal and the material slots are completely sealed off. Why?"

"While the barrel is almost entirely Scarlet's – one of her better works I might add – the stock's completely Reeve's. Where most shotgun are a trade-off of accuracy for power, this one has both," Rufus said reverently. He'd always been bothered by the lack of power of regular fire arms, but he'd also hated the unwieldiness of a normal shotgun. "There's a Quake materia embedded in the stock. Reeve's been trying to find ways to allow machines to use materia." It had been slow going, though a couple gems like this one have emerged. "Unlike a regular Quake materia which pushes kinetic energy into the ground for attacks, this one has been modified to absorb it."

"Kinetic energy that's moving things… like the recoil, right?"

"Correct."

Shame the youth had had such a pitiful education; Cloud had a knack for figuring out how things work. In his more talkative moments, the young captain would go on about motorcycles and radios. If Rufus hadn't poached him, it was likely Cloud would have ended up a mechanic or possibly an engineer. Already Rufus could already see the wonder building behind Cloud's blue eyes, a spark of understanding as he tested the gun's weight and balance. "So it absorbs the recoil, and…"

"You get unparalleled accuracy," Rufus finished.

"Can you still use it for spells?"

"No," Rufus said off-handily, "it's a mostly closed system. It wouldn't work otherwise."

"You used a Quake materia so you could –"

"A _mastered_ Quake materia," Rufus corrected.

"You _wasted_ a mastered Quake materia so you could aim your gun better?" It seemed like Cloud couldn't quite understand the notion.

Making a mental calculation, Rufus decided it wasn't an entirely outrageous reaction; after all such a materia did cost more than what Cloud made in a year. "For what it's worth I commissioned it years before I hired you, when I had considerably more funds. If I'd been able to hire you back then, I would have paid you considerably more."

"Never mind," Cloud muttered, shaking his head. Cloud looked downward as if entreating the Planet to give him patience.

In Rufus' opinion, he ought to ask for a new set of clothes while he was at it.

"The budget for my security force is set, so I can't much to remedy that. Perhaps something else? I am not without influence." Albeit his power was a pitiful, broken creature compared to what it once was. It reminded him of the time when his father had he either put an electronic collar on his cat or get rid of it. At some primal level it had known what it meant, brutally fighting back – Rufus still had the scars to show for it. Once it was on, the Dark Nation had moaned tireless scratching at it and quickly the collar became as unbearable for Rufus as it was for his pet. Ever since Reeve had given him the cat for his birthday, Rufus had never once considered giving his pet up. At least until that moment. Soon afterward he'd started negotiating with Reeve to take the exotic animal back.

Only Tseng's intervention had stopped things from progressing. After all the cat was trained to protect his son, the Turk had pointed out. What if potential assassins found the bandwidth of the collar and could remotely access it? The animal was a free bodyguard. Why make it's duties potentially harder?

"There _is _something." Cloud began. "The vandal from yesterday, I spoke to him. He had recently received bad news. I don't think he was in his right mind when he did it."

"So you don't think vandalizing Shinra property, particularly the President's own landing pad, is the actions of a sane person?" Rufus said sardonically.

"The airport's security chief was worried Administrative Research might get the wrong idea. I was hoping you could help with that… and I there's one other thing."

"Go on."

Instead of rising to the bait, Cloud kept the subject on track. "The person, I mean the body, from yesterday? I was hoping I could see it again."

The requests washed over Rufus, waves on a winter's day. Fierce. Freezing. It made him feel awake. Alive.

Both of the wishes concerned the company's internal security, an area of Shinra that Rufus was supposed to stay away from. Not for the first time, Rufus wondered how aware Cloud was of his circumstances, the rules and limitations that governed Rufus' life. The things that kept him from drawing his father's ire once more. His powers went only as far as his father allowed them. To try to breach those barriers, to reclaim even the tiniest morsel of power… the results might be unpleasant.

Now Rufus was the one wearing the collar. Should he accept it?

Of course not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Thicker Than Blood  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Characters:** Cloud, Rufus, Reno  
**Summary:** Cloud Strife never returned to Nibelheim. AU  
**Author's Note: **This one's a short chapter but no matter how I played with it, it insisted on ending earlier than I was expecting. At least you get to meet another PoV character.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

* * *

"My baby! My honey!" Reno cried as the helicopter landed at Fort Condor.

The tornado of dust surrounding it did nothing to deter him as he dashed towards his beloved. Reno simply pulled his goggles over his eyes and kept on going. Soon enough he was busy clambering all over the craft checking the tiniest sign of damage.

"Did the bad man hurt you?" he cooed at the aircraft.

Predictably Tseng was not amused. Climbing out the cockpit, he fixed the younger Turk with a particularly stony look, his eyebrows practically touching his nose. "Contrary to popular belief," he stated, "I am not _that _bad a pilot."

"Who said anything about you being a bad pilot?" Reno retorted. "I just said you were a bad man."

Most folks would never have said such a thing about a Turk, let alone to the Turk in question. Even other Turks tended to get squeamish when it came to admitting what kind of people their job required them to be. They danced around it like a pole, only the result – in Reno's experience – was way less sexy.

Tseng's lips twitched once. Twice. Then turned into a genuine if small smile. Yeah, he was like Reno. Maybe Tseng wore a tie, tucked his shirt in and changed his underwear more than once a month, but at the end of the day? They were two peas in a rotten pod.

You didn't do Turk work and stay a saint. Let the kiddies with their rosy cheeks and skinned knees tell themselves bedtime stories. Reno and Tseng knew better.

"Director!" Speaking of kiddies.

A tiny figure was swiftly climbing down the ladder that led into the mountain. Unlike the first two in their fitted navy suits, the new arrival was dressed in a deep red one which was at least two sizes too big for her. Once about ten feet up, she jumped, landing lightly on her feet.

Show off.

"Elena," Tseng said as she approached them, "you are looking well today."

"Thank you, sir," the intern said, blushing. (Rosy cheeks. Check.) "May I say you are also looking _very_well as well." The words had apparently burst out on their own as no sooner had she said them, a look of horror dawned on her features.

If Tseng noticed how flustered the kid was, he gave no indication of it. "Thank you, Elena. The compliment is greatly appreciated."

Reno half expected the kid to faint at this. Instead she nervously ran a hand through her hair. For another female the action might have caused some movie cliché. The wind caused by the slowing rotors of the helicopter would've made her hair float for a few seconds causing it to shine the colour of ripe corn. With Elena's all that happened was it fluttered back and forth like it was waving at someone. Her hair was still cropped close having not quite recovered from being shaved off during boot camp. For the life of him, Reno still hadn't figured out how she'd survived the experience.

"Laney, take the back," he ordered as they began to go back to the fort. Tseng might not be a bigwig like the President, but there still were plenty of suicidal types that'd like to get a piece of him.

"Yes, sir," she chirped and scurried into the end of their little procession while Reno took the front. "But if you don't mind. I prefer Elena. I've mentioned it a couple times already, sir."

"What's that, Laney? You think you can tell me what to do?" he barked.

"I didn't mean it like that. It was just a req – "

"Well?" he half-sneered.

The intern's mouth clamped shut immediately. It stayed that way. To her credit, she didn't make puppy dog looks in Tseng's direction begging for help. It wouldn't have helped her anyway.

As they entered Fort Condor, Reno kept an eye out for problems. While now it was more known as tourist attraction or for its mako reactor, there'd been a time where it had been known as a fort in truth as well as name. The bulk of the population lived in rooms and tunnels carved directly into the mountain. There had been lots of hidey holes designed to repel invaders, meaning there were lots of places a troublemaker could lurk.

It gave Reno a headache just thinking about it. Especially considering the VIPs arriving in a couple days. With any luck Rude was having a better time securing Kalm.

They reached the fort's inn without incident. The Turks had 'borrowed' it, turning the biggest bedroom into a temporary command center. Numerous computers filled the chamber, many of which displayed video feed of the mountain. The artwork that had once adorned the walls was replaced by maps. The largest one, a map that spanned all of Gaia had a dozen flags pinned to it with red strings crisscrossed the continents. Meanwhile the inns' beds had been shoved into one corner.

"Laney, get us some coffee, will ya?" Reno said.

The coffee machine sat on a tall desk in the middle of the room. The machine itself was meticulously cared for, the dark plastic of its controls clear of even the ghost of a fingerprint, while the pot was polished spotless. The machine sat on its pedestal gleaming as if its was a gift from the Planet. Elena approached it reverently.

"Not that ancient stuff," Reno snapped.

"But I made it only fifteen minutes ago," she protested.

"There you go. You trying to poison us?"

She started to reach for fresh beans when he added, "Not any of that guck either. I want a cup of coffee I actually like."

"Yes, sir. Right away," she said tightly then left.

No sooner did the door close, then Tseng slumped onto the nearest bed and Reno poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

"She'll be gone for a while," Reno commented.

"You're hard on her," Tseng noted.

"She needs it." The kid was a nice one. That was part of the problem.

"It wasn't a critique, merely an observation."

"Uh huh." Reno could feel some part of himself go on alert. A phantom dagger in his gut that hinted he wasn't going to like where this conversation was going. He kept things casual though. Freaking out wouldn't help. Besides he wasn't one of the gods, his instincts had been wrong before. "I still don't get why you recruited her. Anyone who actually _applies_to the Turks ought to be tossed out on principle."

Well, okay Rude had applied. But Rude was Rude. Trying to figure him out just gave you a headache.

"She graduated the Shinra Military Academy near the top of her class. I believe her thesis on the effective use of small explosives in combat stirred some interest," Tseng said.

"So? I don't care if she could blow up half the army. She's another above-Plate kid who's never missed a meal in her life."

"Her older sister was a Turk," Tseng pointed out. "I believe she did well in school as well."

"Big emphasis on the 'was' part, Tseng. 'Sides unlike big sis, Elena didn't get caught dealing drugs." That would've been a mark in the kid's favour.

Tseng sighed, rubbing his temples. "There are only three of us left, Reno. You, myself and Rude."

"So what? We need a girl to make us more diverse? Are we fucking equal opportunity employers now?"

Despite the comment, Reno didn't mind working with women. He'd worked with and under them before, and in a pinch, they had been as good as the gents. There'd been one lady Turk in particular who he'd respected, a pretty little auburn-haired thing with a clever tongue. That Turk would have made him eat his own balls for breakfast if he'd crossed her. So far Elena hadn't shown a hint of that kind of grit.

"There are benefits to having a woman in the organization. There are places they can go, jobs they can do without drawing as much attention as a man."

"Is this a sex thing? 'Cause I can set you up with some mighty fine ladies if necessary." It was a shot in the dark, but considering that Ancient Tseng mooned over, it was pretty clear he liked the goody-two-shoes type. He wouldn't be the first Turk to let his weapon take the lead.

"I have no need to take advantage of my subordinates," Tseng answered briskly. "My sex life is quite satisfactory."

Uh huh, and Scarlet made weapons that fired daisies.

Reno rolled his eyes. "And when are you finding time for this illustrious sex life of yours?" he argued. This was about as polite and safe as asking the President about his diet plan, but sometimes a little danger got you somewhere. "Been screwing a member of the board of directors, have you? I know you prefer brunets. So is ol'Degger any good?"

"_Enough,_" Tseng broke in, his voice steel. "As I was saying before, there are only three of us left and that is not enough. The department has paper pushers, hackers and informants. What we need is _Turks_."

"Then look at the typical folks," Reno shot back. "Thieves, orphans, vets, whores… They all know what life's really like. No pink, frilly illusions floating in their eyes."

"And what about their backgrounds? If they have any conflicting loyalties?" Tseng pointed out. "The President has too many schemes that require our attention for us to take the time to research other candidates. Hopefully in the future that will be difference, but for now we have to make do with some whose background we know."

"Look, I know she ain't dumb. She knows I only send her for coffee when I don't want her 'round," Reno explained. "She just hasn't had the guts to call me on it or even try to listen in." Not that interns were supposed to do the latter, though it showed initiative. Besides it was practically tradition to kick the crap out of the ones who tried.

Tseng must have heard something he liked, because all of a sudden he turned affable, neatly folding his hands across his lap. He mildly looked up at his subordinate with the demeanour of a tutor who was pleased that his student had gotten the right answer. "So you agree she's intelligent," Tseng stated pleasantly. "I'm glad we agree on that point."

Oh shit, Reno could see where this was going. He really shouldn't have said the last bit. "What I'm saying is she's coddled and timid, plus she ain't screwed up enough for the work."

As if Reno were in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle, he could feel Tseng's assessing gaze zero in on him. "Then perhaps she needs a mentor in such matters," Tseng suggested. "You seem to know exactly what she lacks."

Yep, Reno had practically offered to do the job. Fuck.

"She doesn't have what it takes, chief," Reno said quietly. It was one last stab at freedom

At this point one of the monitors beeped and there on the screen was Elena, a bag of fresh coffee beans with her. By the time she arrived, Tseng's mug had disappeared, a report in its place, and Reno was busy flicking cards into a garbage cans.

"It's Dao Chao blend," she announced, gently cradling the bag with all the care of a hardened caffeine addict. "It's one of the best."

"You planning to make that here?" Reno asked.

"Uh, yes?" she answered tentatively.

"With that crappy old thing?" Reno pointed at the spotless coffee maker.

Elena stared at Reno, then at her beloved coffee machine, then at Tseng and finally back at Reno. "Apparently not," she said tightly before leaving once more. Reno figured he'd bought them a bit more time. It'd be a while before she found someone who'd let her use their coffee maker.

Tseng watched her go before turning back to Reno. "Maybe she has what it takes. Maybe she doesn't. But my previous point stands." he said. "Between the President's current schemes and our normal duties, we are stretched too thin. There are simply too few of us to actively look for recruits."

Reno snorted. To think there once been dozens of them. "Yeah, thank you very much, Rufus Shinra," he grumbled. "So how is His Shiny Assness? Has he gotten himself killed yet?"

"The vice president is in perfect health."

"Well ain't that wonderful," Reno said and shuffled his remaining cards in his deck. Acting as if he was focusing on this, he clandestinely scrutinized Tseng.

The vice president was a sore point of the chief's. Not that you would've noticed looking at him. You would've thought the brat was any other spoiled executive for all the difference it made in his face. Still, everybody had a tell, a little hiccup that tended to rear its head when something was bugging them. Most people wouldn't have even noticed Tseng's reaction at all.

Reno wasn't most people.

Tseng's tick was a verbal one. A minute one at that. While the head Turk always spoke like he had a stick up his ass, when something was especially bothering him, the stick got driven in a bit deeper. He tended to pronounce things a bit more exactly. He shed the normal slang and abbreviations. You could tell he was needing to think a bit harder when it came to blabbing. It was the only sign in Tseng's otherwise fluent speech which hinted that Continental wasn't his native language.

"So basically you ran all the way to Junon for nothing. Ol'Degger's gonna be thrilled about the fuel cost." Heidegger's budget meetings were infamous.

"It easily could've gone otherwise," Tseng stated.

"Do I care? It ain't your job to keep him in diapers. Or kiss his booboos. Not anymore. Hell, it would do the spoiled brat good to get knocked over the head a couple hundred times. A bit of brain damage might do wonders for his personality."

"Or it could kill him altogether. Or damage him to the point he would be unable to perform his duties."

"Duties?" Reno scoffed. "What duties? His pop took all his real authority away when he tried to take over. Still don't get why Old Man Shinra didn't cut him lose then and there."

"And leave the company without an heir-apparent? The company's enemies would see that as a weakness."

"Then give the job to someone else."

"Who?"

As much as Reno hated to admit it, he had a point. Heidegger had an ego the size of HQ but was only competent when it came to middle management. Scarlet would end up blowing the Planet up. Reeve was a nice pipe dream but he was too sentimental. The President would have to pushing up daisies before he allowed that to happen. Palmer? Just no.

And Hojo? The very thought made Reno nauseous.

"Well forgive me for having a bit of a fantasy. But only choice or not, Rufus has trouble written all over him," Reno said, "or have you forgotten what he did to Veld?"

"I have not."

Have not. Not haven't. _Yeah, get pissed, Tseng_. Better that then going all mother hen over Veld's backstabber.

"Make sure you don't. 'Cause framing the head of the Turks ain't exactly something we want to encourage now, do we? I mean maybe you enjoy the office with a view, and the pay is pretty awesome. Next time it might be you… Veld might have been able to outrun the bullet. Do you think you can?"

"I am well aware of the potential consequences, Reno," Tseng replied coolly.

Reno hated doing this kind of thing. He wasn't the chief here. This was the sort of pompous speech that Tseng was supposed to give to him, not the other way around. Talking this way made him feel like he ought to sit up straight and put his fucking tie on.

Had to be done. Couldn't have Tseng deluding himself.

"Are you?" Reno persisted. "Maybe you ran after Shinra Junior 'cause of the job, but I ain't so sure." Yeah, any second now his tie was going to fly out of his pocket and start strangling him. "You knew the brat since he was barely out of diapers."

"You believe this compromises me?" Tseng asked. He was calm, so utterly calm. Reno wondered how much of it was real.

Not letting it get to him, Reno pushed onward. "Maybe. Maybe not," he said evenly. "I was there when Veld was framed. Saw all that evidence pile up. All the way to sky. But you? …You didn't even blink."

"He was innocent."

"'Course he was. That ain't the point. What if he _had _betrayed us?" Reno said. He definitely hated doing this. Between his fingers he fiddled with a King of Spades, wondering if ripping it apart would make him feel better or worse. "You were his little protégé. He spent a whole lotta time grooming you, didn't he? Could've told you to jump off a cliff and you'd have done it.

"Now we have got our illustrious vice president. You've known him longer than me and Rude. You taught him to talk the talk. Walk the walk. All Turk-like and everything. He learned a decent bit too… Must've made you proud. That's gotta leave one hell of a mark. Problem is he ain't a Turk. He's a power-hungry little tit and it's only a matter of time 'til he pushes too far and Poppa Shinra decides to push him right off a cliff," Reno said.

With that, Reno's flippant manner eased, the little cocky grin that normally adorned his face fading. He leaned towards his boss, making sure the older Turk took in every word he said. "So what are you going to do then, chief?" he asked.

Tseng didn't answer for a long time. It was if he'd stepped out of his own body for all the expression he showed. Finally, he slowly got up, brushed a bit of lint from his trousers and straightened his tie in a smooth, well-practiced motion.

"You mentioned Veld. You asked me what I'd do if he'd truly betrayed the company," he said calmly. "Please understand I cared very much about him. Without his influence, I would be nothing. He was my friend, my mentor and more..."

"And?"

"I would've made it quick."


End file.
